Piercing the Stillness
by siapom
Summary: A string of disturbing murders are taking place near college campuses across the US. Can Booth & Brennan find a way to catch this serial killer before it's too late? UPDATED! slight b/b
1. It Begins with a Piercing Scream

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans.

**Author's Note:** I greatly appreciate reviews of any kind. Seriously, if you don't like something just tell me. Think it's fantastic? Great! Review and tell me why. I'm still new to writing, so your feedback is unbelievably helpful!

**Author's Note 2:** The places mentioned in Central PA do actually exist. It's been quite awhile since I've been back home, so I apologize if some of the details have changed. However, just as a quick note - the non-Bones characters in this story? I made them up. :-)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

Edited to correct a minor numbers mix-up. Sorry about that!

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Julian, Pennsylvania

Saturday, August 19th – 3:43pm

It was a peaceful afternoon in the small, central Pennsylvania community of Julian. The weather was perfect…a warm 72 degrees with unusually low humidity for a day in mid-August. A slight breeze stirred the leaves of the oak trees that traced along the unlined, paved streets. The sky was the gorgeous, wispy clouded blue that it seems one can only find in the lovely "hill and valley" region of PA that Julian calls its own. The central part of town, which consists of only 3 small blocks, has a total population of less than two hundred people. And, on this day, it seemed as if at least half of those people had gathered at the center of town to cheer on the home team. Children's laughter and adult shouts of encouragement rang out from around the ball field where the local Little League team was playing in the County Finals. Some of the kids that were too young to be playing were climbing the chain link fence to sit on the metal roofs of the small cinderblock dugouts. Other boys and girls were riding their bikes in the field beside the baseball diamond, kicking up dust from the slightly parched land, or playing kickball on the old cement tennis court that was nearby. The small concession stand that sits behind home plate was doing a steady business in bottled soda, hotdogs and homemade baked goods. Rumor had it that Mrs. Fleischer's brownies were the best buy of the day. Off in the distance, a young couple walked hand-in-hand down the slightly overgrown path that leads towards the creek. All in all, it was the perfect day.

Until the jovial atmosphere was shattered by a piercing, frightened scream…

A few men and women instantly raced off in the direction of the creek. Scrambling down the narrow path and bursting through the overgrown vegetation, they were shocked to find young Julie Woodring bent over a bank of bushes, obviously physically ill. Her boyfriend, Benjamin Johnson, stood behind her holding her hair out of the way and absently rubbing her back. His face, normally tanned and smiling, was taut with fright and a pasty white in color. When he recognized that his father was one of the would-be rescuers, he pointed a visibly trembling hand towards the small glade that was just off of the trail and partially hidden by dense underbrush and small pines. "D-Dad! It's over there!"

Russell Johnson followed the direction of his son's pointing finger. Raising a hand in silent instruction for the rest of the group to stay put, he carefully stepped towards the clearing. What he saw there wouldn't even register in his mind at first. It took a long moment, before he realized that what he was seeing was a human body in pieces. Many, many pieces. With an unsteady hand, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. He was oddly surprised at the calmness of his own voice as he answered the dispatcher's question. "Yes, this is an emergency. Is this Mary? Mary this is Russell Johnson. I need to report the finding of a dead…body between the Julian baseball field and Bald Eagle Creek. Mary, I'm sorry, but I don't know how else to say this. The body - it's in….pieces. You're going to need extra people here."

Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian

Friday, September 1st – 8:17pm

Special Agent Seeley Booth had had a very long day. It had all started with the late night capture of a suspect in an ongoing homicide investigation. He hadn't gotten home until the wee hours of the morning and had been looking forward to a hot shower and a solid eight hours of sleep. That dream had gone out the window with a pre-sunrise phone call from Deputy Director Cullen instructing him to be get back to headquarters ASAP – murderer number two of the day needed his attention. It turns out that a body had been discovered in Pennsylvania, less than ten miles from a major university campus. That had been approximately two weeks ago. However, the FBI hadn't been called in until that very morning. That fact notwithstanding, the Deputy Director was under pressure to close the case in as short a time span as possible. Of course, Booth's first two questions had been, "Why does a murder in Pennsylvania fall under FBI jurisdiction? And, even if it does, why isn't it being handled by one of the local field offices?" Cullen's answer, that "…apparently the brass didn't like to see mislabeled and obviously unsolved serial killings be investigated by the very agents that didn't recognize them for what they are…," sent his already less than stellar day into an unbreakable tailspin. So, he had studied the case files, such as they were. And, now, he was waiting for his partner to return to her office so that he could work his magic and cajole her into accompanying him, once again, out of state.

He had been there for about 15 minutes, and was running through a mental review of the facts of the case, when he heard familiar footsteps echo throughout the cavernous room as his partner, Forensic Anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan, entered the lab. She saw him leaning against the doorframe of her office, raised a surprised brow and simultaneously frowned. _Uh oh. That's not a good sign._ Knowing that he was in for a fight from the feisty scientist, he resigned himself to the fact that his daymight yetget a little bit worse.

"Booth. It's a Friday night. What are you doing here?" Her tone was slightly surprised, but also obviously implied that he should be anywhere but in front of her office door. _How does she do that? She always seems to know when I'm going to ask for something that she won't like._

Placing his right hand loosely over his heart, he gave her his best "Charm Smile" as she called it. "What, Bones? I'm not allowed to visit my favorite partner on a Friday evening?"

She smirked. _Does he really think that smile is still going to work on me? Oh hell, who do I think I'm kidding? As Angela would say, damn the man and that smile. _Rolling her eyes, she replied, "I'm your only partner, Booth." Continuing into her office, she took a seat behind her desk and spun around to face him. "Seriously, what happened to get you all pumped up?"

Even after all that he had been through that day; he caught the slightly hopeful/nervous look that she always got in her eye when she was using a "new" slang term. He couldn't help the soft smile that broke across his features and asked, "Angela teach you that one? Excellent usage, by the way." He sat down in the chair across from her desk and leaned back, trying to relax at least a little bit. _Yeah, the calm before Storm Termperance rolls in. _He pulled a poker chip out of his pocket and started to roll it over his knuckles.

"Thank you, Booth, but that doesn't answer my question."

He opened his mouth to reply when she interrupted.

"And please don't tell me that your answer involves something other than me going home for a long, hot, bubble bath followed by several hours in my own bed."

He knew that it certainly hadn't been her intention, but the visual that statement caused instantly drove every other thought from his mind. He was surprised to find that he couldn't form a coherent sentence other than, _I wonder if she needs help with that bath. _Of course, that thought really didn't help with the first mental image that he was already trying to banish. Not to mention, he didn't think she'd appreciate him asking that particular question. _She'd probably break my arm!_

Apparently, being caught up in his own musings, he had waited too long before answering, because she suddenly stood up and walked around to the front of her desk. She perched herself directly in front of him and attempted to get his wandering attention.

"Booth! I'm still waiting."

"Oh, right." He paused, once again distracted. _Wow. She's actually wearing a skirt today. Has she always had such amazing legs? _He then shook his head. _What the hell is wrong with me today?_

She waved a delicate hand in small circles saying, "And….the reason that you're here is…."

"Oh, yeah." Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he sighed as he said, "We were assigned a new case this morning."

He watched as her brows creased and she tilted her head slightly to one side. "So, why didn't you come by earlier? It's almost 8:45. If you waited this long, it can't be a fresh crime scene?"

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his chair. "No, it's not a fresh scene. But, there actually is something we can do." He paused before continuing with the part she wouldn't like. "We can get out of here, run by your place so that you can pack a bag, and then we can get on the road. We'll be there before you know it." _Maybe I should try the smile again_¸ he thought.

"Pack to go where? I've told you before, Booth, that you can't just waltz in here and demand that I leave on a moment's notice. I have work and responsibilities. I do have to answer to people other than just you, you know!" _Honestly! Doesn't the man ever listen to me?_

"Bones, I'm not here to demand your company. I'm here to ask very nicely that you please accompanyme. There's no one in the local area that can do what I think needs to be done with the remains in order to get this case moving forward. This is important. Everyone is pushing Deputy Director Cullen, who is pushing me, to get this solved ASAP."

"What's wrong with the remains? I man, what couldbeso unusual that the local ME can't handle it? And, where exactly is 'local', anyway?"

"Local is Central Pennsylvania."

She interrupted with, "Well that should make life simple then. I'm sure there is someone at Penn State could help out. They do have some intelligent experts in various fields of study there, in case you didn't know. If not, there are excellent teaching facilities and hospitals in both Pittsburgh and Philadelphia." She paused in thought, "How'd you get assigned a murder case in Pennsylvania, anyway?"

"Well, that's the thing. This isn't just one case in Pennsylvania. Apparently, it's a string of cases stretching clear across the US. The one and only common factor seems to be that the murders take place near, but not at, a major university or college campus. Bones, I'll tell you this. I've seen some truly horrifying things in my life. But, these bodies that are being found…each is atrociously mutilated and/or dismembered. And, it's never in the same manner twice. Bones, the most recent victim was in so many pieces that it took over 5 hours to find and collect all of the remains." He rubbed his hand across his eyes as though that might erase the images from the crime scene photos. "The discrepancies in the MO…that's why it took so long before the FBI was called in. No one had made the connection, until now, that the cases were even related to one another. I only just received the case files this morning, and they're anything but complete for this type of investigation. From what I can tell so far, we are looking at a minimum of eight deaths in seven different states. Pennsylvania is the most recent. And, that occurred two weeks ago tomorrow." He scrubbed a hand through his normally perfect hair. "I realize this is short notice, but I could really use your help on this one, Bones."

She took a long hard look at him and recognized his exhausted appearance for what it was. She didn't know why someone locally wouldn't be able to help Booth with this case. But, she was his partner. Realizing that, she quickly came to her answer. "Ok, then. Let's go. You can give me the details on the way."

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Well, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Think I should scrap this and go do something more useful…like herd sheep? Please push that little button and let me know. :-)


	2. All Because of The Game

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans.

**Author's Note:** I greatly appreciate reviews of any kind. Seriously, if you don't like something just tell me. Think it's fantastic? Great! Review and tell me why. I'm still new to writing, so your feedback is unbelievably helpful!

**To those that have already reviewed:** THANK YOU! You make this fledgling writer very, very happy. (I honestly didn't think I'd make a good sheep herder anyway. lol)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 2

En route to State College, Pennsylvania

Saturday, September 2nd – 8:15am

"Ya know. Maybe taking the time to get some sleep before leaving wasn't such a good idea."

"Booth, would you please explain to me once again why we didn't fly?"

He really couldn't blame her for sounding peeved. They'd been sitting in bumper to bumper traffic for what felt like days. "I tried, Bones. All of the flights were booked. Apparently, this weekend is Penn State's the first home football game of the season."

He grimaced as red taillights once again flared in front of him. "I just didn't realize it would also mean that traffic would be turned into a parking lot over an hour away from town."

"I've never seen anything quite like it." Her voice drifted as something caught her attention. "I mean, look at all of these people." At his raised brow, she continued pointing vaguely to the right, "For example, Booth, what logical reason could that man in the van have for painting his face half blue and half white?"

Booth tried to suppress his smile at her half astonished and half dumbfounded expression. Her quick glare told him that he hadn't entirely succeeded.

"Bones, please don't tell me that in the midst of obtaining all of those lofty degrees of yours you've never been to a college football game." She shook her head.

Astonishment washed over his features. "Watched one on TV?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why would I waste my time watching grown men run up and down a field while bashing each other and chasing after a piece of swine hide?"

"Pigskin, Bones. Most people call it pigskin." _How to explain…_ "Ok, think of it as a way to identify with your sports…family, I guess you could call it. That guy you're talking about is painted blue and white as a sign of support for his favorite team. In this case, Penn State since the school colors are blue and white."

"Really? How fascinating!" She looked out her window at the surrounding cars with heightened interest. "Do people do this sort of thing often? Because anthropologically speaking there is a great emphasis placed upon – "

"Yes, Bones, quite often." Booth quickly trying cut off an impromptu lecture. Not that she paid any attention. He wasn't entirely sure she had heard his answer at all since she was now sitting in the passenger seat mumbling under her breath. He only caught a few phrases, such as "clan identity" and "tribal markings". _Trust Bones to turn college football into an anthropological study. _Shaking his head, he took his foot off of the brake long enough for them to coast forward a couple more feet before needing to stop with traffic again. He looked at the clock and almost groaned in frustration. _It's going to be another long day._

State College, Pennsylvania

Saturday, September 2nd – 11:05am

Booth and Brennan climbed out of the SUV and stretched tired and tight muscles. It had been a much longer drive than Mapquest had estimated and neither had gotten much sleep in the past few days.

_Finally!_ Temperance Brennan had never been quite so happy to see a hotel in her life. "Booth, do me a favor. Next time you want to drag me to another state, do so only via air travel. If the Bureau won't pick up the tab for a private charter when the commercial airlines are booked, I will."

"Deal." He opened the back hatch and started to pull out their luggage, while Brennan walked towards the entrance to the hotel. _It's actually quite pretty._ And, according to Booth, had a very nice golf course. Not that she golfed.

At the desk, she gave the clerk the necessary information to get both of them checked into their rooms. However, when Booth entered ten minutes later, he was puzzled to find his partner leaning against the counter with her back turned to both the front desk clerk and the hotel manager, a murderous expression gracing her features. His steps faltered. Her glare, while not meant for him, was still pretty damn scary.

When she caught sight of him, she stalked over to meet him half-way. "They only have one room. Didn't you reserve two?"

"Of course I reserved two rooms, Bones. Do I look like I have a death wish?"

She tilted her head. "I'm not sure what that would look like."

"Figure of speech, Bones. It means...look, nevermind what it means. Let's just find out what happened to my reservation, okay?"

By that time they had made their way back to the front desk. He'd been told in the past that he had a pretty frightening glare of his own, so he now put it to good use. "Excuse me, but Dr. Brennan just informed me that you only have one room? I very specifically called and reserved two rooms just yesterday."

Wiping his brow, the manager took a small step backwards and raised his hands as if to ward off the angry agent. "I sincerely apologize for this mix-up, sir. The reservationist that you spoke to accidentally booked your two rooms for next weekend. As I was just explaining to Dr. Brennan, with the home game this weekend, I'm lucky to have even the one room available, sir. It was a last minute cancellation."

By now, Booth's glowering expression was a perfect match to Brennan's. "Please tell me that you are joking."

"No, sir. I wish I were able to provide you with a more favorable answer. The room does, however, contain double beds if that helps, sir."

"Is there any way that you can check with another hotel?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But, with the game…" You could tell that he had practically capitalized the "t" and "g" for that phrase. Both Booth and Brennan were sure that they were going to be very tired of "The Game" before all was said and done.

"Of course. The game." Resigned, Booth turned to Bones and raised an eyebrow. She didn't look happy, but she shrugged her acceptance.

Booth turned back towards the manager. "Ok, since that seems to be our only option..."

"Excellent. Thank you very much for your understanding Special Agent Booth. And you too, Dr. Brennan. Let's get your check in completed so that you can get to your room posthaste. And, as soon as a second room becomes available, I'll make sure that this situation is corrected."

Fifteen minutes later, Booth and Brennan were standing in a modest suite. Looking around, both were relieved to see that the room did indeed boast two double beds, along with an in room coffee pot. Booth chuckled as he saw Brennan's eyes light up when she noted that particular item.

"Shut up, Booth. I've earned coffee."

"Oh, fully agreed, Bones. However, since we're not scheduled to meet with the local field agent until early this evening, why don't we both try to get some rest before starting our caffeine binge? Whaddaya say? Should we take time for an afternoon nap?"

"Why aren't we meeting sooner? I would think that with a serial killer on the loose, local law enforcement would be moving more quickly than this." Brennan sat down by the table in the corner and looked expectantly at Booth for an answer.

"Because of 'The Game'."

"Of course. What was I thinking?" Brennan relaxed back into her chair, shaking her head.

Feeling the need to at least attempt to defend his fellow law enforcement officials, Booth continued. "Apparently all of the officers involved are on duty due to the high number of people entering the area. From what I was told, the number of football fans that hit town for a home game weekend easily triples the local population. Therefore, they increase all patrols for local area police and the State Troopers in the surrounding counties."

"That many people show up for football!"

"Yep. Apparently, Penn State football is more of a religion around here than a sport." Shrugging, he flopped down on one of the beds. "So, we might as well get some rest while we can, Bones."

"Booth. Are you sure that you want to do that?"

He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "Of course I'm sure. I just spent almost 7 hours making a 4 hour drive; I haven't had a full night's sleep in over a week; and starting this evening I have a serial killer to catch. I think that I'm entitled -"

Cutting him off, she said, "That's not what I meant."

"Bones, I'm tired. So, just this once, would you please work with me here? What in the hell are you talking about?"

She grimaced and waved her hand at the bed he reclining on. "That. That thing. Are you sure you want to be lying on top of it. It's been scientifically proven that those disgusting objects are generally crawling with DNA from up to hundreds of people. It's just plain gross."

"You've got to be kidding me." Wide-eyed, he sat up and gestured at the bedspread. "You handle decomposing corpses, burnt flesh and dirt covered bones for a living. And, yet, you think that a hotel bedspread is 'gross'."

"No. I know that the hotel bedspreads are 'gross'." She copied his use of air quotes to mark the word. "Didn't you hear about the DNA results on the bedspread found in Mike Tyson's room during the rape investigation in Indianapolis?" Shuddering, she motioned towards her own bed. "Do me a favor. Since you're probably already contaminated would you please remove the bedspread from my bed? I forgot my forceps, and my gloves are out in the car."

Incredulous, Booth could only gape at Brennan. "You normally bring forceps along just to remove the bedspread from the bed?"

"Of course. Although gloves work just as well."

Shaking his head, Booth stood up and started to comply with her request.

"Thank you. While you do that, I'm going to take a quick shower." With that, Brennan grabbed a small bag and headed to the bathroom. Seeing Booth look at the bedspread now in his hands and then longingly at the sink in the bathroom, she smirked and closed the bathroom door. She even snickered when, through the door, she heard Booth's frustrated statement about urban myths, pushy females and bathrooms.

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I was originally planning to make this a longer chapter, but this seems like a good breaking point. I apologize that it's mostly set-up information about the local area and atmosphere. Things should get a little more entertaining from this point forward. Assuming the muses are willing, of course. :-)

Also, the bedspread issue was part of the book, _BONES: BURIED BONES_, by Max Allan Collins. As far as I'm concerned, if it happened in the official book for the series, it's part of canon.

Please review to let me know what you think!


	3. Phone Calls and Pizza

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note:** I greatly appreciate reviews of any kind. Seriously, if you don't like something just tell me. Think it's fantastic? Great! Review and tell me why. I'm still new to writing, so your feedback is unbelievably helpful!

Also, my apologies for the words that were run together in the last chapter. I'm not sure how that happened since my version doesn't look like that.

**To those that have already reviewed:** THANK YOU! You are all awesome. :-)

**A special note to Hawkeye Girl: **Are you really looking to start a Big Ten war? lol. I'm not at all sorry to say that you will _never_ get me to change my mind about this one. I was born and raised in Penn State "country". So, my loyalty was firmly sealed _long_ before I became a PSU alum. WE ARE…PENN STATE :-D

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 3

Hotel Room – State College, Pennsylvania

Saturday, September 2nd – 9:30pm

Braced against the vanity, Seeley Booth looked at his reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Even through the haze, he could see the dark circles that had begun forming under his eyes. _I look like shit._ He knew that at some point in his life he had to have been more tired than he was right that instant, but he honestly couldn't remember that past time or place. He was exhausted. He had been hoping to get some sleep after helping Bones with her "bedspread" issue. Unfortunately, sleep wasn't to be since it was about that time that his cell phone had started to ring incessantly.

First, it was Deputy Director Cullen's assistant calling to verify that they had arrived safely and to confirm the time of their situational meeting with the local Agent currently assigned to the investigation. She also informed him that the Deputy Director was, of course, expecting an update first thing in the morning, along with an anticipated course of action.

Second, Rebecca called for a marathon argument about the time that he was allowed to spend with his son. Rebecca was on a tear about cutting off his visitation rights since he had been unable to take Parker to the zoo, as had been his original plans for the day. Never mind that he had already spoken to his son to explain just why Daddy had to reschedule until the next weekend. Parker had been fine. Just that morning, the little boy had continued to amaze him by saying, "It's okay Daddy. You need to catch a bad man. Jus', be careful. 'Cuz, when you get back we havta see zebras at the zoo!" So, why Rebecca was acting crazed about the "damage this incident would cause to Parker's psyche" was thoroughly beyond him.

It had been in the midst of this call that Bones had exited the bathroom. Innocently enough, as she opened the door she had called out that the bathroom was all his. Of course, Rebecca had overheard and made some leap of so-called logic that only she could come up with. She actually had the nerve to accuse him of blowing off time with his son to spend a weekend with "that inhuman excuse for a woman who thinks she's God's gift to man just because she has a PhD" that had him "wrapped around her bony finger" and had taken over all of his time as of late. He'd been flabbergasted. _Where'd she get that idea from? She'd never even met Bones! And besides, Parker thinks she's cool, so where does she get off calling her"inhuman"?_ It didn't help that given the volume of Rebecca's rant, Bones had overheard that particular series of comments. It had taken all of his persuasive and physical defense skills to keep her from taking the phone and giving Rebecca a piece of her mind. During the rest of the argument, he had had to listen to Rebecca's ridiculously vicious ramblings and Bones' acerbic comments about "insecure females" and "I have more than one PhD, thank you very much. If she's going to insult me, she could at least get it right."

Then, as a special treat, Angela had called. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she had dialed his phone. That is until Brennan realized her cell's battery had died. Needless to say, upon discovering that they had been forced to share a room, Angela had gone into an ecstatic and extended verbal monologue about the wonders of Fate, the necessity of opening one's heart to Cupid's arrow and some other, more explicit, ideas that he'd sincerely like to forget. _I'll never be able to look at a bucket of ice in a hotel room the same way again. _That time he had allowed Bones to take the phone when she saw him turning what must have been five shades of red in embarrassment. At that, he had fled to the bathroom for a much needed shower and a few moments of peace. _An action any former Army Ranger would be proud of. _He snorted at that thought.

_Might as well get this over with. I can't hide in here all night._ With a sigh, he opened the bathroom door and peeked out to see Brennan seated, legs all curled up, near her bed's headboard with an open case file in hand. "Is it safe?"

Giggling, Brennan responded with, "Yeah. Unless you consider that Angela knows my phone's charging and will probably call you back in a couple of hours to see how we're 'getting on'."

"Bones, did you just giggle?" He couldn't help the pleased smile that tugged at his lips. He was pretty sure that not many people could claim to have heard that sound come from the normally reserved anthropologist.

"Shut up, Booth. Contrary to popular belief, I am human. I do giggle upon occasion. It's a perfectly acceptable manner of expressing amusement, especially for women."

Booth couldn't resist responding and gave her his best charm smile. "Oh, I know that Bones. I just didn't realize you'd look so cute doing it."

While she was doing her guppy impersonation, he grabbed his suit jacket with a flourish and walked towards the door. "Come on, Bones. Snap to. We have places to go and people to see." He smirked and continued, "Unless you'd rather sit there with your mouth hanging open and collect flies all night."

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. She was then disappointed to find that her amused glare had no effect on his smirk as she grabbed her jacket and followed him out the door.

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Home Delivery Pizza Pub – State College, Pennsylvania

Saturday, September 2nd – 10:00pm

"Hi, we're meeting someone for dinner. I believe she's already here."

The restaurant host's gaze lingered on Brennan a little too long for Booth's tastes, but the college-aged kid grabbed two menus and led them in the right direction quickly enough. "Let me guess. You're meeting the FBI lady?" And, at Booth's nod, he muttered, "Lucky you." A little more loudly he instructed them to follow him with, "Right this way, please."

It was a small, casual restaurant, but cozy with dark wooden furniture and candlelight flickering across checkered tablecloths. They were led away from the bar and headed towards a round booth in the back where Special Agent Meredith Scott was already seated. She stood as their group approached, and all Brennan could think was, _That's just perfect – another leggy blonde._ Booth shook Scott's hand while introducing himself and then Brennan. Agent Scott, not exactly the epitome of discreet, looked him up and down approvingly and proceeded to hold his hand longer than absolutely necessary during their handshake – an action which was emphasized when she simply nodded in greeting at Brennan. While Brennan frowned, Scott smiled at Booth and waived a hand towards the booth in an invitation for him to slide in beside her. When Booth indicated to Brennan that she should slide in and then took a seat on the end for himself, Brennan gave Scott a small, slightly triumphant smirk. She then watched as Agent Scott took a seat on other side of the booth, notably displeased. Scott then opened the conversation by thanking them for agreeing to meet so late in the day.

Booth, completely oblivious to the women's silent exchange, answered with a mumbled, "No problem." He had already picked up his menu and was examining the dishes and various pizzas available. "Hey, Bones. Interested in splitting a taco pizza?"

"Bones?" Agent Scott's nose wrinkled in distaste.

Booth had the decency to look at Brennan with a slightly apologetic look, but was shocked when Brennan looked Scott squarely in the eyes and said, "Yes, 'Bones'. But, only he may call me that, Agent Scott." She redirected her attention and answered Booth with, "Yeah. That sounds good."

Booth finally noticed that his partner's less than warm manner towards the other agent was even chillier than was normal for her and wondered exactly what he had missed. He leaned towards her and whispered, "I 'may' call you that, now, huh? I'll keep that in mind."

Brennan glared.

Booth smirked.

Scott just looked on with a slight frown of confusion.

The server chose that moment to step up to the table to take their orders. And, while waiting for their drinks to arrive, they got down to business.

"Again, I apologize that we weren't able to meet earlier today. The game threw everyone's schedule off. You'll understand in a little bit. Before we leave, the game will let out, and you'll see this place fill up with people faster than you would imagine is possible. Anyway, I wasn't even able to meet with the Trooper who was first on scene until yesterday afternoon." Scott took unfolded her napkin onto her lap and continued, "You should probably know – he's having a bit of a hard time with this one."

"I'd be concerned if he wasn't affected. After all, in my experience Agent Scott, most people aren't accustomed to seeing the human body cut into small pieces and scattered in a forest clearing."

"And you are, Dr. Brennan?" Scott's raised brow and tone implied that she didn't think Brennan looked like she could handle anything that tough, either.

"Unfortunately, I guess you could say that I am. I've seen any number of things that I hope most people never have to be exposed to."

Booth frowned at Agent Scott and interrupted, "Dr. Brennan has worked in some of the worst conditions humans can ever experience, Agent Scott. She has worked in war torn countries around the world, assisting with the identification of bodies left to rot in mass graves. She assisted with the identification of remains at Ground Zero in New York and, more recently, in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. She is the best at what she does. I expect you to respect her expertise and honor her dedication to duty. Is that understood?"

Surprised by the intensity behind his speech, Agent Scott simply nodded. "My apologies, Dr. Brennan, if I sounded disrespectful. It wasn't intentional."

_Yeah, right. _"No problem."

About that time, the food arrived. While eating, they discussed what few details of the most recent case were available and made arrangements to meet the next day at the County Coroner's office so that Brennan could examine the remains. Agent Scott had been assured that the test results that had been sent for would be back by that time.

Booth's phone rang as they were all nursing an after dinner coffee and debating the concept of dessert. Looking at the display, he groaned and tried to hand the cell over to Brennan.

"I don't want it. You answer it."

"But, she's your friend."

The corners of Brennan's mouth fought to not curl up in a grin. "But, it's your phone."

Booth conceded and answered with a cautious, "Booth."

"Hi, sweetie! I'm not interrupting anything am I? Please tell me that I am…"

Booth could just hear the huge smile on Angela's face as she teased him.

Booth had a sudden idea and grinned wickedly. "Actually Angela, you did call at an…inopportune moment."

He had to work hard not to laugh at the incredulous expression on Bones' face. "We were just about to…ahem…have dessert."

"Booth!" Brennan hissed and reached to take the phone.

He swatted her hand away.

"Oh, sweetie, really! That's fantastic! Do you need any recommendations for what kind of 'dessert' to try? Because, you know me – I'm just full of fun and exotic suggestions, and I'd be happy to do anything to help. I mean that literally."

"Oh no, I think Bones has that covered. I'm leaving it all up to her." As Angela squealed in excitement, he held the phone away from his ear with one hand while he used the other to grab Brennan's hand. She had tried to take the phone away from him again, so he firmly held the offending hand down on the table.

Winking at his partner, he continued, "Ya know, Ange, Bones is starting to look a little anxious, so I'm going to –"

He was interrupted as Angela encouraged him to "go right on ahead and enjoy the sweetest course…maybe even enjoy a dessert sampler."

As he snapped his phone shut, he couldn't help but laugh at Brennan's horror-stricken expression. "What?"

"Booth! I can't believe you just did that!" She swatted his arm for emphasis.

"Hey! What did I do? We were sitting here discussing eating dessert. I was perfectly honest."

"Don't try to act all innocent with me Seeley Booth." She growled in frustration. "This is a nightmare! She's never going to believe me when I tell her the truth!"

"Everything that I said was perfectly true, Bones. How can I possibly be held responsible if she chose, as is her right, to put her own spin on my words?"

"Ugh! You are unbelievable. Really. You are. And, wipe that insufferable grin off of your face, or I'll do it for you."

"Ah, but ya wouldn't know what to do without me, wouldja Bones?" he asked, attempting to put his arm around her shoulders.

Shoving him away, Brennan only intensified her glare.

In the meantime, Agent Scott could only watch their exchange in absolute fascination. She had no idea what was really going on, but it was entertaining as hell. _Wait until the boys in the office hear about this one._

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You know what to do next. Please…don't make me beg. :-)


	4. The Coroner's Report

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note:** I greatly appreciate reviews of any kind. Seriously, if you don't like something just tell me. Think it's fantastic? Great! Review and tell me why. I'm still new to writing, so your feedback is unbelievably helpful!

**To those that have already reviewed:** THANK YOU! You are all awesome. I am soooo happy that you enjoyed the last chapter. :-) This one was a bit more difficult for me to write. I'm not really sure why. But, anyway, here it is.

I tried to add a few technical points, but science is really not my field. (I still don't know what I was thinking when I chose my major of study. The science fields pay so much more. lol) So, if someone out there who knows more than I do sees that I've stated something that is incorrect, please let me know.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 4

Home Delivery Pizza Pub – State College, Pennsylvania

Saturday, September 2nd – 11:28 pm

Still ensconced in the booth at the restaurant, Special Agent Seeley Booth tried to get his partner to stop being pissed at him. "Come on, Bones. You can't possibly still be mad at me. It was funny!" _Ok, I thought it was funny. _"I already told you that I'd handle Angela when we get back to DC." Exasperation was evident in his voice as he continued, "What more do you want from me?"

As an outsider to…whatever this situation was, Agent Scott saw the devious twinkle in Dr. Brennan's eyes. However, she was pretty sure Agent Booth was too wrapped up in the argument to see it. Since she was also certain that he had completely forgotten her own presence at the table, she did her best to hide her smile as she watched the supposedly "humor-challenged" Dr. Brennan bait her partner. She then had to quickly cover her mouth with a napkin as Booth nearly choked on his ill-timed sip of coffee when he heard Brennan's answer to his question.

"Decadent Self-Indulgence."

"Excuse me!"

Brennan opened wide, innocent eyes. "I said 'Decadent Self-Indulgence.' You did ask me what else I wanted, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah. But…" He adjusted the collar of his shirt. "That certainly wasn't the answer I was expecting!"

_Well, well, well. He certainly does blush nicely. And I don't think his eyes could get any wider!_ Scott had to turn her head to the side, napkin still over her mouth, to hide her laughter.

Booth lowered his voice and leaned closer to his partner. "Bones, we are in the middle of a very crowded restaurant. There is another FBI agent at the table with us. And, I'm not entirely sure what you have in mind, but I really don't think this is an appropriate setting to make the request!"

"Booth! I simply want the Today's Special Cheesecake." She pointed to the dessert menu in its plastic holder on the table and turned still innocent eyes in his direction. "Why? What did you think I was asking for?"

"I…But you…"

Agent Scott couldn't hold it in any longer. The poor man looked so confused. She burst out laughing. She noted that Dr. Brennan had now lost her serious demeanor and was sporting a smile worthy of a Cheshire cat.

"Really, Booth. You should know better. I'm not that type of woman." If possible, her grin got just a bit wider. "If that was what I wanted, do you really think I'd beat around the tree about it?"

Special Agent Seeley Booth, still in shock, corrected her automatically, "Bush, Bones. Beat around the bush." _I can't believe that Bones got me at my own game! _"And, knowing you…no. Probably not." With a rueful smile, he shook his head and signaled for their server.

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Hotel Room – State College, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 12:13am

As Booth opened the door to their room, he stood back and waved Brennan through ahead of him. More amused by this sign of chivalry than offended, Brennan merely smiled her thanks and entered. She was amazed that after the earlier comments from Angela, and then the conversations at the restaurant, she didn't feel at all awkward sharing a room with Booth. Instead, she felt…relaxed. _Huh._

Booth had been watching Brennan discreetly to make sure she didn't seem tense or uncomfortable. He wasn't so sure how she was feeling about this sharing a room situation. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he felt about it. But, he was reassured when he saw the corners of her mouth lift in a small smile, and she shook her head at some personal thought.

Turning to face him, she asked, "Do you want to go ahead and use the bathroom first? I'll probably take longer. And, you're looking awfully tired."

"Thanks, Bones."

As Booth left the room, Brennan used that opportunity to quickly change – thankful she had packed something relatively conservative to sleep in. Of course, she noticed when Booth still gave her a quick and appreciative once over on his way out of the bathroom. However, by the time she was finished with her nightly routine, he was snuggled under his covers with his eyes closed. She thought he had already fallen asleep, until she heard his quiet "'Night, Bones." She whispered, "Goodnight, Booth" and promptly fell into the first truly restful sleep that she had had in quite awhile.

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Office of the County Coroner – Bellefonte, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 10:53am

Despite the lines of now outbound football traffic, Brennan enjoyed the drive to the small town of Bellefonte. She especially loved the beauty of the Victorian houses that the town seemed to have in abundance. She was somewhat surprised when Booth made mention of wanting to walk around a bit when they were done so he could take a closer look at them. She just didn't think he was the type to want to look at old houses; but it was a beautiful day, so she readily agreed to the plan.

However, work came first. They met Agent Scott at the door to the County building. She led the way to the Coroner's office, explaining that he had been kind enough to meet them on a Sunday due to his grave concern regarding the case. As they entered his office, she offered a quick round of introductions. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. Dr. Temperance Brennan. I'd like you to meet Dr. Joshua Bichel, Centre County's Coroner. He's been assisting the FBI and local authorities with this investigation."

Booth shook hands with the Coroner, followed by Brennan.

"Agent Booth, it's nice to meet you. And, Dr. Brennan, it is very nice to meet you. I have, of course, heard of your work. And, I'm a great fan of your writing. It's truly an honor to be able to work with you on this case. I never would have imagined I would have the opportunity to do so!"

Brennan, always less than comfortable with her fans, smiled and tried to look appreciative. "Thank you. I just wish that it were under less unfortunate circumstances."

Booth noted that Joshua Bickel was a striking man, probably in his early 50's. He was reasonably tall and fit. Booth also noticed that despite the wedding ring on his left ring finger, he seemed perfectly content to keep a tight hold on his partner's hand long after their handshake should have been over.

Still retaining said hand, the Coroner replied, "Of course. It's a very disturbing case."

Brennan, in the meantime, was trying to be nice and wanted to find a way to get out of the overly long and enthusiastic handshake without appearing rude. She cast a glance at her partner to see if he had noticed. Apparently he had, because Booth took a step closer to her and gestured towards their linked hands.

"Sir, do you think you could give my partner back her hand, now? In the past she's found it useful for her work. And, we should probably get started. I'm sure your wife would appreciate it if you were home in time for Sunday dinner."

"Oh, of course…of course. I'm so sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." With a slight chuckle and a flush to his cheeks, he gestured for them to take a seat and walked around to the other side of his antique desk. As he sat down, he picked up a file and passed it to Brennan. "That is my official report. As you can see, the body was…well, chopped for lack of a better word, into over 50 pieces. You'll see that not all of the pieces of the body were found. The crime scene team spent over two days scouting the immediate area, but couldn't find anything further. Our best guess is that either the killer didn't leave all of the body at the scene or animals carried pieces away. Or, of course, a combination of both."

"Sir, why do you say 'chopped'?" Booth had pulled out the notebook that he always kept in his suit jacket and was taking notes.

"Well, to be honest with you, not all of the marks at the separation points are the same. However, the closest markings I've seen were made when a man died after someone accidentally chopped through his ankle with an ax. But, these marks don't have that exact look about them either. To be honest, we just don't have the technology available to make a definitive match or to determine the device used."

"Well, that's where my team comes in." Brennan stated, while still looking over the report. "According to this you were able to determine that the victim was dead before the dismemberment due to the condition of the remaining tissue. However, you mention that a majority of the victim's identifiers are missing?"

"Correct, Dr. Brennan. The victim was entirely unclothed. No jewelry, ID or even birthmarks are present. Quite honestly, after what was done to the face we don't have much to work with in the way of matching to missing person's photos. And, all of the victim's fingers were severed at or near the distal interphalangeal joints. The distal phalanges are all unaccounted for."

Booth mumbled, "Well, that certainly makes fingerprinting more difficult. But, as long as the skull's mostly in one piece, Angela will be able to work her magic on the facial reconstruction." Raising his voice, "Were you able to take flat prints of what remained of the fingers and the hands?" He then noticed Brennan's strange look.

"What?"

"You understood what he said about the interphalangeal joints?"

With a sigh, Booth shot her a slightly annoyed look. "Bones, we've been working together for how long now? I think that even I can figure out when you're talking about someone taking off the tips of people's fingers."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I wasn't implying that you aren't intelligent enough to have learned that in the time that we've worked together, Booth. You just don't always seem that interested in the technical language involved."

"Well, yeah, I'm not. But, that doesn't mean I can't learn a little something from my very own team of squints." He quickly wiped the pleased smile off of his face when he caught Agent Scott's raised brow indicating her interest in their conversation.

"Right. Sorry. About possible prints?"

"Well, we did what we could with what we have. But, when the authorities ran the prints through IAFIS, nothing came back as a solid match. Agent Scott mentioned that there were some possibles, I think."

Scott nodded in agreement. "There are a few partial matches in the system. The home office is checking it out, but I wouldn't hold out much hope."

Brennan jumped in to ask, "Were there any trace fibers or particulates on the victim's remains? Or collected from the scene?"

"They didn't find much. The remains appeared to have been thoroughly cleaned before…"

"The chopping?"

"Ahem…yes, Agent Booth. We did find a couple of stray fibers in the victim's hair. But, those turned out to be from a broken fishing net that was tossed by the creek. It doesn't appear to be related to the case. It's my opinion that the fibers just blew in that direction on the wind and got stuck, so to speak. As for other particulates, we found nothing out of the ordinary. Everything seemed to fit with the flora and fauna at the site where the body was found. It's been very dry lately, so we didn't even find any viable footprints near the body."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm sure Bones' team would like to take a look at anything you do have. We'll be visiting the site ourselves later today."

"Of course, Agent Booth. I'll have everything couriered down to the Jeffersonian as soon as possible."

Brennan looked up from the file. "Actually, before you do that, the body is still here, I assume?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

"Good. I'd like to examine it, myself. Then, I'll need to have it shipped to the Jeffersonian, along with any other evidence that is available. My team will be able to clean the bones and better assess the damage from there. Hopefully, it won't take long for us to be able to determine exactly what type of device or blade was used to dismember the remains. Plus, my forensic artist can utilize the skull to reconstruct the victim's appearance. At that point, we may be able to get a visual match or ID. I also work with an expert in the field of entomology, spores and minerals. Quite honestly Dr. Bichel, with the equipment Jack has at his disposal, he might be able to find something your team couldn't."

"I certainly hope so, Dr. Brennan. Now, if you'll all accompany me, I'll take you to the morgue." He led the group out into the hallway and towards the elevators. "However, I should warn you that there isn't much to see which, in and of itself, I found very puzzling. I haven't even been able to pinpoint the specific cause of death. And, while I might not have your world-class level of experience, Dr. Brennan, I must say that I am very good at what I do. I don't like to come across cases that I'm unable to solve."

Agent Scott broke in with, "Well, I'm sure Dr. Brennan here will do everything she can. From what I've been told, she can practically work miracles."

"I don't believe in miracles, per se. They're just man's way of –" Booth's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Bones, just take it as a compliment and let it go."

"Oh. Ok." She shrugged. "Thank you, Agent Scott."

Booth issued a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes as they entered the morgue.

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Ok. I am not really sure what I think of this chapter. So, I'm especially interested in your opinion. Does it seem boring? Too much dialogue…not enough action? Please let me know what you think. Once again, constructive criticism is welcome!


	5. Architecture and Crime Scenes

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :-)

**To those that have already reviewed:** THANK YOU! Your encouragement means a great deal to me…especially since I was rather unsure of the last chapter, myself. Hugs to all of you!

**To those that have this story on Alert:** I just realized I've been neglecting you. I'm sooo sorry. Thank you so very much for showing that you are enjoying this story. :D

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 5

Linn Street – Bellefonte, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 1:24 pm

"Booth, I really don't think we have time for this."

"Come on, Bones. Half an hour. The fresh air will do us good after…in there." He gestured in the direction of the building they had just left.

"Still creeped out by morgues, Booth? And, what's the big deal about some old houses, anyway?"

"'Old houses'! Bones, Bones, Bones…" He shook his in mock despair.

Brennan's, "Don't call me that," was obviously said more out of reflex and without any actual conviction – which was fine since Booth ignored her anyway.

He continued his lament and spread his arms in a wide sweep to indicate the Victorian homes that line the street, "These are works of art. These houses have withstood the test of time and the wrecking ball. Do you know just how many Victorian buildings were destroyed back in the '50's, '60's and '70's? I'm amazed at just how many of them are still standing here. It's incredible!"

"I didn't know you were such a fan of Victorian architecture, Booth." _He's like a kid at Christmas! _She had to smile at his enthusiasm. It was catching.

"It's not so much that I'm a fan of Victorian architecture, Bones. I'm a fan of all great architecture. At one point I even thought about making a career out of it." At Brennan's surprised expression, Booth put his hands in his pockets and stopped to look at one home with particularly ornate trim. "I mean, look at that. You see the scroll work? And that tower. The detail is amazing!" He sighed. "I know this sounds cliché, but they just don't make homes like that anymore. Nowadays, they're building cookie-cutter houses in cookie-cutter developments. In most of these places, if you didn't know where you were, you could walk out your front door and be in any city in any state. I don't know. I guess I just find that kinda sad."

When Brennan didn't respond he turned to face her. For the second time in as many hours Booth realized that his Bones was looking at him with a slightly strange and thoughtful expression.

"What?"

She shook her head, clearing her expression. "What 'what?'"

He laughed. "You do realize that if you keep giving me that look you're going to make me paranoid, right?"

"What look?"

"That look you gave me just now! Like I was a…a…I don't know." Finishing a bit sheepishly, "Like I was particularly good and ordinary puppy that suddenly opened a book and starting spouting Shakespeare."

Brennan burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The visual her mind created was priceless! _Well, he does have those puppy-dog eyes. All he'd have to do is add big, floppy ears!_

_She's laughing! _"And now you're laughing at me!"

She held her hands up in supplication. "I'm sorry, Booth!"

She was still somewhat chuckling, and he cast a disbelieving look. With an effort, she took firm hold of her features…mostly. She couldn't help the quirk of her lips when she remembered the mental image his comment had created.

"I'm sorry, Booth. Really. You keep surprising me is all."

He nodded his acceptance of her apology. When he didn't say anything, she gave a shy smile and continued, "It's not often that we get to talk about our personal interests." When he started to object, she interrupted. "You have to admit that our conversations generally revolve around our work or make a complete jump straight into emotional crises. We don't usually just talk about us…," she fumbled with what she wanted to say, "…I mean about you or me or any of the hundreds of general, everyday topics that other people discuss."

He smiled. It wasn't often that he got to see Brennan stumbling over her words. And, he was touched that she was interested in his everyday life. The life that existed outside of their work. "Oh. Okay. Then maybe it's about time we correct that situation." Upgrading to his charm smile, he went on, "Whaddaya say, Bones? Maybe we could set aside some time to get to know one another a little better – away from work."

Brennan tilted her head to the side in consideration. "I don't know. When you put it like that…doesn't the Bureau frown upon that sort of thing?"

Rolling his eyes, Booth smirked. _Typical. I try to give her what she seems to be asking for and now she gets cold feet. _He took one hand out of its pocket and lighted touched her arm, indicating they should continue their walk. "Nah. It's not like I'm saying we should take off for Aruba for a weekend of drinking, skinny dipping and wild sex." _One to me. It's almost impossible to make this woman blush. _"Let's just consider this new idea to be an exercise in teamwork and strengthening our partnership."

"Oh, you mean like one of those team building exercises you told me that the Bureau makes its Agents participate in?"

"Yeah. Sort of like that. But, hopefully, we'll both be participating willingly," he said with a wink.

Brennan ignored the wink and smiled. "Ok. It sounds like a plan, partner."

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Community Center – Julian, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 2:52 pm

Booth parked the SUV in the small lot and looked at the small community area in front of him. To his right sat a small, white church – its red doors a blaze of color in the afternoon light. It was nothing fancy, but its spire sported the traditional cross and the stained-glass windows reflected the light in a prism of rainbow hues. Directly in front of him was apparently the town's tiny Community Center. A small playground was situated to its left –small swings rocked gently in the breeze. Off diagonally to his right he saw what appeared to be a cement tennis court, with no net, and a half-court for basketball. Beyond that he saw the baseball field and, he presumed, the path towards the creek near which the body had been found.

Theirs was the only car in the small parking lot, so the State Trooper they were to meet up with had obviously not yet arrived.

"So, Bones, What was your preliminary take on the device used to dismember the remains of the victim?" As he spoke, he removed his seatbelt and turned sideways so that he was facing his partner.

"Booth, you know that I don't like to speculate." She mirrored his new position, facing him.

"Ah, come on, Bones. It'll be another few days until Zach can get back to us with any results. Humor me just this once?"

"Just this once?" Her raised brow showed what she thought of that statement.

His only response, his trademark smile, was followed by a shrug.

_Damn that man and his smile. _She signed and moved into a more comfortable position. "Well, in all honesty Booth, it's hard to say. From just my brief examination of the remains, I believe that the killer utilized at least three different tools or blades. As to what these devices are…your guess is as good as mine. Zach will be able to see more of the detail and markings made by the blade or blades once the bones have been cleaned."

"Why would the killer use that many different tools?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm still trying to determine why the body is in so many pieces. After all, it's not exactly easy to dismember the human body. For the amount of time and physical effort that it would have taken to do this…" She broke off shaking her head.

She had stopped talking, but her eyes expressed a sadness that surprised Booth. _Apparently I'm not the only one who had a rough time at the morgue. Then again, it hasn't been that long since her mother…_ He was about to place a supportive hand upon his partner's arm when the State Trooper's car pulled into the lot. So, he settled for a reassuring smile before he turned and exited the car.

As Brennan joined Booth in front of the SUV, they watched as the Trooper talked briefly on his radio. Then, he opened the door and unfolded his tall frame as he climbed out. Booth's only thought was, _How big is this guy?_ Booth, after all, wasn't a small man, himself. But, the Trooper was at least a good three or four inches taller than his 6'1" height. And, the rest of his body fit his stature. He had broad shoulders. Really broad shoulders. _Geesh._

"Trooper Frantz? Hi, I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. Thank you for meeting with us." He flashed his badge and shook the Trooper's hand.

"Nice to meet'cha Agent Booth. Dr. Brennan. It's no problem at all. I'd like to git this…monster off the streets." The Trooper's voice was deep and his tone somewhat gruff. But, he smiled pleasantly despite the circumstances of their meeting. "I s'pose younse'd like to see the scene. And, I'd be happy to answer any questions that I can."

"Thanks. We would appreciate that. Trooper Frantz – "

"Oh, jus' call me Bobby. I don't see no reason for us all to spend the next however long tripping over formal titles." As he said that he rocked back on his heels and tapped his Trooper's hat against his leg.

"Ok, Bobby. In that case, just call me Booth. And Bones here likes – "

"To not be called Bones." Her glare would have withered a lesser man. "You can just call me Temperance or Brennan, Bobby."

"You got yourself a feisty little partner here, Booth. So, Brennan, why's the Special Agent call you 'Bones'?"

"To annoy me." That was Brennan's reply. At the same time, Booth said, "As a sign of respect for her knowledge and skills."

"Oh, please, Booth!" Hands on hips she turned, which squarely placed her inside of his personal space.

"What? Bones, are you denying that I respect your knowledge and skills?"

"You know, Booth. I once promised Angela that no matter what I would deny any urge to kick your ass. You're making me regret that promise."

Booth took a step back. "Now, Bones…there's no reason to – "

He was interrupted by Bobby's booming laughter. "You afraid of this pretty lady takin' you down, Booth?"

"Trust me, Bobby. This 'pretty lady' has some very trained and unexpected skills."

"Really? Huh." Bobby winked at Brennan, but directed his next comment to Booth. "I guess if I were you then I'd take that into consideration then when callin' her names."

Brennan face broke into a grin, and she turned to Booth with an expression that screamed "I told you so."

Booth rolled his eyes as his shoulders drooped in defeat. "Ok, ok. With that out of the way, can we move on to the business at hand, now, please?" As the other two nodded, he straightened his shoulders. "Thank you."

"Now, Bobby, why don't you tell me what happened after the body was discovered. I realize that you gave your official report, but I'd like to hear it directly from you."

The tall man's eyes suddenly looked tired and haunted. But, he nodded and motioned for them to accompany him towards the ball field. "Sure. Sure. Of course." He took a deep breath and started, "Well, I was on duty patrolling 220 when the call came across the radio. I was just up the road and had finished writin' my millionth ticket to that Reese kid, so I headed down here. I was the first officer on scene. I've never seen anythin' like that. I mean, you gotta understand…I was in 'Nam. Did two tours before I came home and joined the force. I've seen some nasty shit. But, nothin' could compare to what that bastard did to that woman. Hell, we weren't even sure it was a woman 'til we found a breast under those fern leaves." He sighed and glanced at Booth before looking at Brennan. "Look, no disrespect ma'am, but are you sure you wanna hear about this in detail? It's not the sort of thing my mother'd be happy about me discussin' in front of a lady."

"I've already examined the body, Bobby. And, while I appreciate your concern, there isn't anything that you can say that is going to surprise me. Besides, I hate to say it, but I've seen worse than this." From most people that comment would have sounded like boasting. But, not from Brennan. It was simply a statement. Nothing more. Nothing less. Bobby seemed reassured…and impressed.

"Exactly what is it you do, Doc?"

"I'm a forensic anthropologist."

Bobby cocked his head to the side. "What exactly does that mean? I've never met a forensic anthropologist before."

"It means that Bones here specializes in the identification and study of human remains that are very old, badly decomposed, burnt, dismembered, blown up or otherwise too far gone for a pathologist to obtain the necessary information for identification and/or cause of death." His tone could only be described as proud. "She's tops in her field."

At Bobby's slightly startled look, Brennan said, "Well, I wouldn't say that. But, I probably am one of the best." She shrugged like it wasn't anything to brag about.

"Well, in that case, Doc, I must say I'm impressed. I promise not to underestimate you in the future."

"Thank you, Bobby. I appreciate that."

By that time, they had reached the edge of the ball field, and Bobby pointed to a narrow path a short distance away. "It was down thataway." He led them down the path that so many people had scurried down that day when they heard Julie Woodring's scream.

When they got to the creek – Bobby pronounced it "crick" - he pointed towards a copse of small trees and sighed. "The remains were mostly back there. There's a small clearing. It's my understandin' that Ben and Julie had come this direction to git away from the rest of the kids and the noise. When they got down here, they noticed a slight smell and saw there was a disturbance in the undergrowth over that way. So, bein' curious kids, they walked into the clearin' and found the body…or what was there of it. By the time I got here, the kids and the adults that had come runnin' were all over there by the creek. Russ is a smart man. After one look in there he'd called 911 and directed everyone over that way since it was as far as they could go without leavin' the scene."

"Bobby, I noticed that there were only witness statements from four people. Just how many people were here when you arrived?"

"Well, I would say there were 'bout eight?" He stopped and ticked off on his fingers as he went through the list in his head. "Nope, make that nine. Ben and Julie were obviously here. Russ Johnson – he's the one who called 9-1-1. Then there was the Graham's, Max Miller, Betty Schell, Old Mike Hill and Jeanie Rhodes."

Booth's puzzled expression didn't go away as he asked, "So why are there only four statements in the file?"

Bobby's look started to match Booth's. "You mean that the list wasn't in the file, too?"

Booth shook his head no.

"Well shit. I don't know why not. But to answer yer question – it's because only those four actually saw somethin'. The others ran down here when they heard the scream, but were directed over to the edge of the creek by Russ."

Brennan interjected, "So five of the people were here but didn't see anything at all? And, you're sure that they didn't approach the remains?"

"Well, Doc, I wasn't here at the time. But, if Russ said they didn't approach that clearing, then I believe 'im. The only ones t'see the scene were Julie, Ben and Russ."

"Booth, didn't you say that there were four witness statements?"

Bobby answered the question, "Old Mike gave a statement because he spotted a few pieces of the body off to the edge of the clearing."

Brennan nodded. "Just out of curiosity…why do you keep calling him 'Old Mike'? Is that an indication of great age?"

Bobby laughed. "Heck no! Old Mike's only 'bout 35. But, he has a son – Michael Douglas Hill, Jr. The family has a dog named Junior. So, when Young Mike was old 'nough to recognize his name, they decided that in order to tell the two apart, one would be Young Mike and one would be Old Mike. It's been that way ever since."

"Oh."

While that discussion took place, Both had moved closer to the clearing. He thought he had seen something. But, now he couldn't find it. It was just a small fleck of a not-quite-right color…

_Ah ha!_

The breeze drifted through again and shifted the leaves around the base of some brush. There, underneath the leaves, appeared to be a tan piece of paper.

Brennan noticed her partner poking around on the ground with his pen. "Booth?"

"Hey, Bones, do you have any gloves on you? It's probably nothing, but I think I found a piece of paper back under here."

"Sure. Here."

He took the latex gloves and snapped them on. He noticed that, being Brennan's, they seemed to fit tighter than usual. As he carefully moved the pile of leaves, he saw the edge of the paper again. He gently grabbed a corner and pulled it from under the remaining vegetation. He stood up, find in hand. He used his free hand to brush off the knees of his jeans. As he stepped out of the shadows created by the trees, he looked the paper over. His expression quickly turned to one of surprise and then anger.

"Whatcha got there, Agent?"

"A note. I think."

"You think?"

"Well, it doesn't make much sense. But, from the looks of this, I'm guessing our killer just upped the stakes. Bones, do you have an evidence bag? We need to get this to the lab."

"Of course. Here. What does it say?"

"Well, it's a riddle. Hell, maybe it's just this guy's idea of poetry." Booth carefully placed the paper in the plastic baggie and handed it to Brennan. "Tell me what you think."

She read the note as Bobby stepped behind her to read over her shoulder.

ONE BY ONE THEY OPENED

ONE BY ONE THEY FELL

THE BEST AND BRIGHTEST

ARE BLINDED BY MY SKILL

THERE WERE ONLY SEVEN

THIS MAKES EIGHT FOR NOW

NINE SHALL FOLLOW SHORTLY

NO ONE'S ON THE TRAIL

Bobby was the first of the two to speak. "I think we've got a problem."

Brennan nodded agreement while Booth whipped out his cell phone. They finally had a lead.

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Ok. This has officially turned into strictly a case file type of story, I think. I hope that's ok with everyone. You know what do to next. As always, comments and constructive criticism are strongly encouraged and appreciated. :-)


	6. Disclosure over Dinner

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**To those that have already Reviewed and Alerted this story:** THANK YOU! I love to hear what you like and/or don't like. So, please keep letting me know.

**_WARNING:_** My serious case file is under attack! A tribe of plot bunnies, known to be of the clan Fluff, have _escaped_ and run amuck with this chapter. Please be advised that they are considered highly persuasive and impossible to ignore! Should they appear to you, approach them with extreme caution. :-D

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 6

Hotel Room – State College, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 8:51 pm

Booth found the dim, air conditioned room to be a very welcome sight as he followed Brennan through the doorway. After finding the note, they had called in Agent Scott and the crime scene investigation team to go over the site one more time with a fine tooth comb. They didn't find anything further, but at least now Booth was confident that a thorough search had been completed. He had also contacted Deputy Director Cullen and requested that additional searches be arranged at the other, older crime scenes that they believed were related to this case. While he didn't hold out much hope that anything would be found, he figured it was worth a shot. In the meantime, their newest piece of evidence had been copied, and the original was on its way to Quantico for analysis. It was high priority, but they still couldn't expect to hear anything from the FBI lab until later the next day. So, for now, he was left with a copy of the note and a small stack of incomplete case files to re-review.

_Maybe with Brennan's insights we can eke out some new information...formulate some new ideas. But first, we need food._

He glanced Brennan's way and found that she was at the small, round table by the window, laptop half out of its bag. He simply observed her for a moment as she hooked it up and set up the equipment she used for her satellite connection to the lab. When, she was almost finished, he spoke to grab her attention.

"Bones?" When she looked up, he just nodded at the equipment.

"I thought you might want to go over the other files. I figured I could take notes and do some research." Her shrug was accompanied by a slightly timid smile.

He answered with a broad grin. _That's my partner! _"Good idea. But first, I think we should get something to eat. We've been at it since this morning."

"Definitely a better plan. Was there anything here that looked appealing?"

Booth's poor, sleep deprived brain was barely able to stop any less than partnerly thoughts. _Food. She's talking about food._

He attempted to answer, but it didn't quite work as planned. All he croaked out was, "Food. We should get food." At her quizzical look, he cleared his throat and tried again. "We should get food. But, not in here. Not at the hotel, I mean. I didn't see any restaurants here, at the hotel, that looked…" He took a breath, "You know what? How about we go up the road to that bar and grill we passed on the way back in?" _Finally…an intelligent sentence._

Brennan still looked slightly puzzled by his behavior, but agreed. "Sounds good. Just give me a minute to change."

He watched as she gathered jeans and a small tank top – the kind with the thin straps. His still inappropriately directed mind couldn't decide if it would be a good thing or a bad thing if she didn't wear another top over it. He realized that he must have been staring when Brennan stopping digging through her luggage and spun around to fully face him.

"Ok. I know that this has been your line today, but – What?"

"What 'What'?" He tried the "look dumb" approach…which obviously didn't work because she only narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you staring?" She held the shirt up in front of her and looked down at it. "Do you think this'll be too casual?"

He yanked his wandering thoughts back under control. "Bones, I wasn't sitting here critiquing your clothing choices. But, since you asked, this is a college town. It's a bar. I'm sure that'll be fine." _Please let her have forgotten the staring part._

She lowered the shirt and once again turned to her bag. "So then why the staring?"

_Damn it._

"I wasn't staring."

She threw a look over her shoulder. "Booth. You were looking at me and not blinking. I'm fairly certain that is a good indication of staring."

He huffed, "You weren't even facing me. How do you know I wasn't blinking? Or, that I was even looking at you for that matter? Hhmmm?"

She smirked, "I've been taking lessons from you. As you say, I could 'feel' it. Now, I repeat – why were you staring?"

"Well…" He was interrupted by a musical sound from Brennan's cell phone.

_Talk about being saved by the proverbial bell._

She snatched it off of the table and flipped it open muttering something about hoping it was "the results on that Indian skeleton."

His brow furrowed. "I thought the appropriate term was Native American?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not when the bones are from India."

"Oh."

He watched as she scrolled though her messages and was a little surprised when she groaned and her shoulders slumped.

"Bones? Something wrong?"

Her plaintive response of "He just won't go away!," was somewhat concerning to Booth. He instinctively jumped to the idea of a stalker. However, her next comments derailed that train of thought entirely. Not that she seemed to actually be speaking to him. It was more like she was talking to herself.

"I mean, really! How much more clear could I possibly be? One would think that the phrases 'It's just not working out' and 'It's over' would be sufficient indication that his attentions are no longer desired. Obviously my conclusions are incorrect. Perhaps I should block his number…"

Booth had continued to listen, but his mind was stuck on one particular phrase. _It's over?_

"Bones? A little clarification for the uninformed?"

She actually jumped as though she had forgotten his presence. "Oh. Booth. It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She slipped her cell into her jeans pocket, a blush settled firmly on her cheeks.

"Well, Bones, ya see I would love to be able to say 'Ok. I won't.' But, that's not really what the evidence is telling me to do. You're standing over there talking to yourself – which, by the way, I don't think I've ever seen you do outside of the lab – about some mysterious someone not leaving you alone when you've asked him to. Now, I tend to find that just a wee bit concerning. So, if you don't want me to worry about it, you'll just have to be a tad more forthcoming about what's going on."

Her shoulders slumped even further…this time in defeat. "Fine." She whipped around and pointed a finger at him. "But, if you so much as think the words 'I told you so' I'll ignore my promise to Angela and thoroughly kick your ass."

He help up his hands, palms out. "No 'I told you so.' Got it. Now spill."

Her answer was so quiet that he almost didn't hear it. Almost…

"You dumped Dick431?" A huge smile broke out across his features.

"Gee, Booth. You don't have to look so happy about it."

Her grumble wasn't lost on him. But, Booth just wasn't really interested in her protestation, so he waved the comment off.

"Yeah. Right. Sorry. So, what happened?"

"Nothing happened. It just didn't work out."

"Really? 'Cause it doesn't sound like that's how Dick4 – " He broke off at her glare. "…how David seems to see it. Not if he won't stop sending you messages or leave you alone."

"Well…it didn't work out for me."

"Why not?"

"Booth, that's a bit personal don't you think?"

"Well, Bones, earlier today we did establish that we were going to be more open with each other about our personal, non-work related lives. Why not start now?"

Booth was afraid that he might have pushed too far when she just stood there - not responding. However, he was pleasantly surprised when she started to smile and shook her head.

"You're impossible you know that?"

"Yeah, so I've been told. I think it's part of my charm." His charm smile was out in full force.

Brennan chuckled. "Fine. Fine. But, let's get out of here first. I promise to tell you the whole non-sordid story over dinner. And, since I'm sure I'll be under intense interrogation…You're buying." The pointing finger made another appearance. Except this time it poked him in the shoulder.

That didn't change his smile in the least. "Fair enough, Bones. Fair enough."

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All American Ale House & Grill – State College, Pennsylvania

Sunday, September 3rd – 10:47 pm

As promised, Brennan told Booth all about her break up with David over dinner. They had shared some calamari as an appetizer; worked their way through Lobster Capellini and Grilled Filet Mignon, again sharing – well, it had actually started with stealing; and were contemplating the dessert menu for the second night in a row. They continued talking as they attempted to decide between the traditional layered chocolate cake and a "fruit salad on crust" as Booth insisted upon calling it. Brennan kept trying to tell him it was a Fresh Berry Torte, but he wouldn't listen. That was partly because he was trying to actually finalize the "David" conversation.

"So, basically what you're saying is the guy bored you to death."

"I'm not sure I'd say that. I'm certainly not dead."

"Figure of speech, Bones." Waving one hand, he pointed to the chocolate cake on the menu. "Why don't we just share that?"

Half shrugging, Brennan agreed.

"So, Booth. Do you feel better now that you know all about the dreary end of my most recent relationship?"

"No, Bones, I don't." When he saw that she had apparently misinterpreted his answer, he continued, "What I mean is...Yes, I'm happy that you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me about what happened. But, no matter what I personally thought of the guy, I hope you don't think that I wouldn't want you to be happy. You deserve that, Temperance. You deserve to find someone that will respect you, stimulate you, someone to make you laugh…someone to share your life with."

During his heartfelt speech, Brennan had been looking down at the table, fiddling with her napkin. When he stopped speaking, she looked up. Booth was concerned to see that her expression was somewhat dazed, but then the corners of her mouth tilted up into a soft smile. She met his gaze for a long moment before saying, "Thank you, Booth."

"You're welcome, Bones."

"So have you two decided on a dessert?"

The sudden interruption by their chipper waitress caused both agent and anthropologist to jump.

"Yes. We have. We're going to share a piece of the chocolate cake. Would you please be sure to bring two forks? Thanks."

The server smiled at Booth and turned away. She then quickly returned with the cake and requested forks. Both Booth and Brenan smiled as they each took a bite and then enjoyed their dessert in companionable silence.

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So, what do you think? No, really. I want to know. Was it OOC at all? Too short? Did these scenes still fit in ok with the story? Please review. What'll it take to get you to just press that little button and review? I know that you're busy, so even a smiley face will do. :-)


	7. File and More Files

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**To those that have already Reviewed and Alerted this story:** THANK YOU! Your reviews always make me smile. I love to see that people are enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

**To all Readers:** Ok, so I've been through this chapter about a zillion times trying to make sure the details are right, they fit the story history, etc. So, please let me know what you think. I'm afraid that if I read it one more time I'm going to edit the life right out of it. If I haven't done so already. cringes Let me know what you think. And, since there are apparently a LOT of people out there reading, but not reviewing, I would like to say that reviews are a great inspiration me. So….please review, too?

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 7

Hotel Room – State College, Pennsylvania

Monday, September 4th – 7:33 am

Both Booth and Brennan had awoken early to start a detailed review of each of the case files. Since their dinner the evening before, the atmosphere in the room seemed more relaxed than normal between the two, and neither partner wanted to tamper with the new dynamic. So, in unspoken agreement, they didn't say anything to one another about their conversation the previous night. Instead, they made their small pot of coffee and ordered breakfast from room service. After checking in with their respective offices, they spread the files out on the beds and got down to work.

They started with the most recent victim, making sure to add all of their newly acquired information. They then began the process of tracing backwards in time, file by file, to find that missing piece of information that would help them to catch this murderer.

They had been at it for over three hours when Booth insisted that they take a break from scrutinizing the files' details. Frustration was setting in since the only connections they could find were the proximity to the colleges/universities and an increasing degree of mutilation to the victims' bodies. He knew that there was some piece of information that was alluding them. If only they could find it.

"Ok, Bones. That's it." He tossed the file in his hand onto the bed. "I vote we take 15 minutes."

Brennan didn't even look up from her notes, but mumbled, "You can't 'take' time, Booth. It's not a corporeal aspect of our reality."

"Bones, it's just a figure – " His grumpy retort broke off when her features burst into a grin. He found his own answering hers before he could speak. "Bones, are you trying to be funny?"

"Well, it did make you smile," she said, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Booth simply shook his head and stood up. "Come on, Bones. Let's take a walk." He grabbed his cell phone off of the nightstand and walked over to the door. When Brennan didn't move, he looked at her expectantly. "Bones? Come one. Let's go."

"But, don't you think it would be wise to wait here in case Zach sends us something? They should have the packages by now. They have better equipment. They might see something…"

"Bones, you know and I know that Zach will call you if he finds anything at all. Besides, didn't you say it would take time to…"He paused to shudder. "…deflesh the…you know."

At her reluctant nod, he once again motioned her towards the door. "See? We have some time. Seriously, I don't know about you, but I could really use a couple of minutes to focus on something that doesn't involve a twisted human mind and body pieces. We'll just walk out and around that walkway there. Then we'll come right back."

After casting one more longing look at her computer, Brennan refreshed the screen to make sure there wasn't anything new. She then stood and joined Booth, who was already opening the door for her.

They had actually made it as far as the sidewalk outside the lobby door when Brennan's cell phone rang. Shooting an "I told you so" glare at her partner, she pulled it from her pocket.

"Brennan."

"Good morning, sweetie! How are you and your hunky FBI agent today? Doing anything I'd like to know about? And don't hold back on my account. Feel free to go into explicit detail."

Brennan being Brennan, she rolled her eyes and ignored Angela's innuendo. "I'm fine, Angela. Did you get the packages?"

Angela's groan of frustration was easily audible to even Booth, who tried to smother a smile of amusement. "I guess you're not. Oh well. I tried…"

"Angela!"

"Okay, okay. That's why I'm calling. I knew you'd be all uptight until you knew they had arrived safe and sound."

"I'm not uptight."

Booth snorted and then ducked to the side as Brennan smacked his arm.

"Right, sweetie. I don't know what I was thinking. You sound the epitome of agreeable good cheer."

Her sarcasm was lost on its recipient.

"Angela, tell Zach that he needs to have the remains defleshed as soon as he's done with his initial examination. I'm hoping to be back in a couple of days, but if they're ready, I want him to get started analyzing the tool marks on the bones. Tell him that my brief look at the remains indicated that at least three different blades were used to cut up the body. And, tell him to call me immediately if he has any problems making the molds of the marks. He's only done that a few times, so – HEY!"

Booth put Brennan's phone to his ear. "Angela, tell Zach that Bones has every confidence in his abilities and to call when he has something."

He could barely hear Angela's soft chuckling over Brennan's outraged sputtering.

"Sure thing, handsome. So, how are you two really holding up?"

"We're good. We just need as much information as you guys can come up with as quickly as possible. I'd like to get this guy before he gets to number nine."

"Can do, sweetie." Hodgin's voice cut in from the background. "I have to go. Give Bren a great big hug for me."

The call disconnected before Booth could respond.

He closed the phone and looked at his partner's expression. _Yeah. I think not._

Brennan swiped her phone from his hand and thrust it back into her jeans pocket. "That was mean!"

"What did you want me to do? You start talking about defleshed and cut up bodies and some old woman that's getting out of her car looks like she's about to call the police!"

"We are the police."

"Well, she doesn't know that!"

Turning back towards the hotel, Brennan growled in frustration. Over her should she called, "Are you coming, Booth?"

Encouraged that Brennan hadn't really hit him when he took her phone, he responded with a bright smile and, "Absolutely, Bones. I'd follow you anywhere."

The smile turned to a smirk as Brennan rolled her eyes. She spoke too softly for him to be entirely sure of what she said in response, but he was fairly certain that it wasn't complimentary. Apparently the old woman from the car didn't think so either since her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide in shock.

Booth gave her a tight smile as he walked by and waved to indicate in front of him. "She's not really a morning person."

Once they got back to the room, they reestablished their more serious air.

"Ok. Let's try taking this from the top. Do you have Victim 1's file?"

Brennan looked down and picked up a file. "Yes. Victim number one is Mario Gonzolez, age 63. He had reported for work at the neighborhood grocery store in East Lansing, MI, on November 7th, 2002, where he began to feel ill and then collapsed. He was reportedly in excellent health for his age and was only taking medication to control a slight high blood pressure problem. However, the tox screen reported lethal doses of Muscarine which led to cardiac arrest."

Booth stopped her. "Why does Muscarine sound familiar?"

"Think mushroom. But, by all reports, the victim was an avid health nut. He didn't even drink soda. A thorough search of his locker, car and residence turned up negative for any signs of the drug. Oh, and East Lansing makes MSU our university in this one."

"Ok. And, just to confirm, there are no signs of mutilation of the remains, correct?"

"No, but the victim died in the middle of a busy grocery store. Even assuming the killer was on hand, there would have been no way for him to access the body following the time of death. Although, I am curious as to how this was determined to be one of the cases involved in this investigation."

"I'm not sure, to be honest. But, it was one of the cases Cullen handed over, so it's one of the cases that we'll investigate. Next."

"Ok, victim number 2 was in Kentucky. Identified as Jean Rouchet, a 24-year-old white male…again, reported to be in excellent physical health. Originally from France, he immigrated here with his parents in 1985. His body was found on the morning of April 14th, 2003, face down in a 4" puddle of water in the middle of his apartment complex's parking lot. All of his finger tips had been sliced open vertically. The official cause of death was drowning."

"It's amazing that that's possible in four inches of water. Is it possible he was drowned elsewhere and then moved to the parking lot?"

Brennan shrugged. "It doesn't even take that much, actually. Anyway, according to the report, the water found in the victim's lungs perfectly matched the water in the puddle. It wasn't rainwater. It was city tap water. And, according to the weather history for Richmond, it hadn't rained in that area in days. So, what rain they had received wouldn't have been sufficient to leave small puddles of standing water for that length of time. Anyway, since it tested as city water, a search for a cause of the puddle turned up no known source. There were no reports of broken water lines in the area, no signs of building maintenance, no on property sprinkler systems…the police were pretty thorough. From these notes there weren't even signs of anyone washing their cars."

"So obviously someone had to put the water there deliberately."

"Yes, and the defensive wounds on the body and scuff marks near scene support the theory that the victim was actually overpowered and drowned on site."

"Which means we are definitely looking for someone that is physically capable of overpowering a 24-year-old man in the prime of his life? That's just great."

"But, Booth…why the fingertips? The killer didn't take the victim's ID. It was found in his pocket. So, he certainly wasn't trying to the victim's identity."

"Well – and this is just a hunch – I think that the killer was getting bored and decided to try something different. He only sliced the fingertips as a sort of test to see how it would feel."

"I suppose that could make sense."

Brennan closed her file and indicated that it was his turn.

Booth picked up the top file on his stack and flipped it open.

"Ok, Vic #3 was found in a wooded area just outside of Hutington, WV, on November 24th, 2003."

Brennan's raised hand stopped him. "Marshall University?"

"Yeah. What'd you do? Memorize the entire listing of colleges and universities in the US?" he asked, smiling to take the bite from the words.

Brennan shrugged. "No. I went hunting near there a few years ago."

"Oh. Right. I'd forgotten about that. Anyway, the coroner estimated that death occurred approximately three weeks prior to the date the body was found. Cause of death was a gun shot wound to the head."

"Why does the FBI consider this part of the pattern. At that time of year, a gun shot wound could just be a hunting accident that someone tried to cover up."

"Well, Bones, I would agree with you, except for the fact that there were also a number of deep slices on the body that were determined to be post-mortem injuries."

"Oh."

"Uh huh. Not a good sign. Also, the victim was wearing a three-piece suit. I don't know about you, but I'm thinking that's a bit dressy for hunting in good 'old West Virginie. And, according to the reports, there was a 9mm bullet left in the victim's skull. That's not your normal hunter's choice of ammo."

Brennan stood up and stretched. "Agreed. Were they able to identify the victim?"

"Yep. One Reverend Jacob Porter. Age 47. Black male. By all accounts he was a highly respected member of his community. He had an adoring family and devoted congregation. No known enemies. No suspicious activities. No known vices that would have landed him in front of that gun."

Thoughtfully, Brennan asked, "Was there any recognizable pattern to the mutilations on the body?"

Booth shook his head negative. "Nothing that the coroner noted as a pattern. I'd love to let you take a look at the autopsy photos, but they're missing from the file. The local police are supposed to searching for them. They think that they got misfiled into the wrong folder." His irritation at their sloppy filing system was more then evident in his tone.

Aghast, Brennan's eyes widened. "How do you misfile photos from a murder investigation?"

Booth gave an agitated "I don't know" shrug and pulled the next file that was in front of him. This one did contain photos, which he handed to her.

"That's the scene Michael Morton came home to on April 1st, 2004. The victim was his wife, Sarah. She was 29."

Seeing the close-up's of the victim's injuries, Brennan's eyes widened, "She suffered repeated blows to the back and side of the skull. You can see where her occipital, parietal and temporal bones are almost completely shattered on the left-hand side. This wasn't done by only three or four blows, Booth."

Booth, always amazed at her ability to pull information from just photos, nodded. "It was more than enough to kill her."

Brennan glanced up sharply. Booth's tone had been tight and more than a little angry.

"Are you okay?"

Disgustedly, he ran a hand over his eyes. "Yeah. I just hate knowing that there's some sick bastard out there planning to do God only knows what to someone else, and I have no idea who the hell he is or how to stop him."

"We'll get him, Booth." She continued to hold his gaze until he finally nodded. "Okay. This was the victim near Baylor in Waco, right?"

"Yeah. Again, no suspicious circumstances surrounding the victim's everyday life or activities. Robbery was ruled out as a motive once the husband confirmed that nothing was missing."

"What about the husband? I assume he has an alibi?"

"He was just getting home from a seven day oncology conference in Aspen. The cab company that brought him home from the airport confirmed the time he was dropped off. Time of death was at least three hours prior to the time of discovery. The airline records confirm that Dr. Morton was still in the air enjoying his complimentary pretzels while his wife was being bludgeoned to death in her own living room with – "

"Booth." Brennan broke in as Booth's voice once again turned hard and cold. Her concerned eyes sought his, but he looked away.

"Sorry, Bones." Chest heaving with the force of his sigh, Booth closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "I don't know why I'm letting this get to me. I think I'm just tired."

"Don't apologize to me, Booth. After spending so many years in this field and seeing so many of these bodies on the table in my lab, I find it reassuring to know that there's someone like you out there. Someone who cares and values the innocent human life. Your caring…it helps you do your job, and it makes you who you are. Don't be sorry for that."

Booth was amazed that his socially inept Bones was always able to say just the right thing to him when it counted. And, he couldn't begin to explain what those words meant to him. Especially coming from her. The tension slowly left his shoulders. When he looked up, their gazes locked. He wanted to express his appreciation for her concern and understanding, but the words wouldn't come.

Brennan, for her part, couldn't look away. She was held captive by the sheer emotion he was showing with that one look. There was obvious warmth and gratitude, but it was more than that. It was like he was trying to communicate something…something important.

The room's phone blared to life, startling its occupants out of their silent rapport.

Booth reached across the nightstand and grabbed the receiver. "Hello…Yes?...Oh, well thank you, but that's really not…Well, yes, but...Really. I do appreciate the thought…If you insist…Yes, of course. About an hour?...Ok. Thank you."

Apprehensively, Brennan followed Booth's end of the conversation. When Booth saw her expression, he chuckled. "Don't look so worried, Bones. That was just the hotel manager."

"Oh." Perking up at the thought of her own bathroom, she asked, "Is there another room free?"

She didn't find it reassuring when he started to laugh. "You could say that."

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing."

He smiled a smile that she could only term – to herself, at least – utterly sexy. And, his voice dropped to that timbre that always caused her thoughts to go from partnerly to something much more personal.

"But, how do you think Angela's going to react when we tell her we've moved to the Honeymoon Suite?"

Booth enjoyed watching Brennan's expression change from surprise to embarrassment to confusion. It wasn't something that he got to see all that often.

"Booth, why would we be moving to the Honeymoon Suite? By the way, neither of us is going to mention those two words to Angela, together or separately. I don't want to even think about what she'd do with that information."

Booth, personally, thought it might be worth the risk just to see what happened, but wasn't sure if his Bones would ever forgive him.

"Deal. And, according to the manager, the Honeymoon Suite is a true suite. It has three rooms – two bedrooms and a common living area. I guess the most recent occupants just checked out, and he felt it might make up for our current 'inconvenience' as he put it. The room should be ready in about an hour."

"Okay. I guess in that case it shouldn't be too bad. And an hour should give us time to pack and finish a review of the rest of these files. At least the larger suite will give us room to spread them out and make it easier to work."

Booth's mumbled, "Way to be romantic, Bones," was pointedly ignored.

"You know, Booth, if we have a chance, we might want to visit the scene where the fifth victim's body was found. Pittsburgh isn't that far out of our way on the drive back."

"Not a bad idea, Bones. That was the body found in the dumpster on the Duquesne campus?"

"Yes." She waved a few photos and pieces of paper in her hand. "Is this all we have? What happened…the police let campus security take charge of the investigation?"

A long-suffering sigh was issued before Booth answered her. "The rest of the file went missing. The local police department is – "

"- looking for it." Brennan finished the sentence and shook her head in disgust. "From what information we do have, a university maintenance worker found the body in a dumpster near the northern edge of campus. I've actually guest lectured there in the past. Their campus isn't exactly located in the best part of the city."

"Yeah, I know. I've been there. A buddy of mine went to school at Pitt, but dated this girl from Duquesne. We went to her dorm to pick her up one weekend when I was visiting. You have to get through a pretty rough neighborhood to get there. I was glad it was daytime."

"I would have to agree." She took a deep breath and handed the crime scene photos to him. "The victim's body was discovered on the morning of September 2nd, 2004. Again, the victim's ID was found in his pocket. Paul Miller was only 22. It's sad, actually. He was in his senior year. Anyway, it was determined that COD was suffocation caused by a plastic bag being placed over his head. The victim's BAC was .14, so the police made a logical guess and determined that he had been out with friends. They tracked down and interviewed everyone in the group that he had been with, but no one could provide any explanation for what happened. They had apparently all had a good time. But, the victim had a class late the next morning, so he had been the first to leave. Aside from the suffocation, the victim's neck and wrists had been sliced deep enough to review the spinal column and the bones in his wrists. However, that was apparently done post mortem. That's all I have."

Booth stood up and stretched before reaching for the next file. He read through the information as he paced the short distance between the table and the bathroom.

"Vanika Townsend's body was found in a lot on the southern outskirts of Albany, NY, on May 7, 2005." He ran his finger down the page and read the highlights. "She was 19. Caucasian. A sophomore at the University at Albany. Cause of death was strangulation with a silk shawl that the victim was wearing. She had been on her way to a sorority social when she left her dorm at approximately 9:15pm that evening. According to her roommate, she had called a cab so that she wouldn't have to wear a coat and wrinkle her dress. Needless to say, it didn't matter. She never made it to the party." He passed the file's photographs to Brennan. "As you can see, there was extensive mutilation to the victim's facial features. They used dental records to confirm the victim's identity."

Brennan handed the pictures back. Booth placed them in the file and grabbed the last file on his stack.

"Which brings us to our seventh victim – one Jonathan Brown. Age 44. He was stabbed 8 times with a common butcher knife. His body was discovered early in the morning on June 23rd, 2006, displayed on the steps of the administration building at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, which is where he worked. The phrase 'Go Sioux' was carved into his chest. According to the autopsy, that took place before he was stabbed to death. Otherwise, it's the same story as all of the others…no enemies, happy home life, etc."

"So, he was attacked on his way to work?"

"That's the way it looks. The campus police had footage from a video camera in that area. The tape shows the body being dumped, but nothing else. To be honest, the quality wasn't that great. It's at the lab to see if our boys can pull any new information from it."

Brennan nodded. "And that leaves us with our current victim. Booth have you noticed that there is almost no physical evidence to be found at any of these crime scenes? No fingerprints, no stray hairs…nothing. It makes me believe that our suspect might have forensics training."

"I'd had that thought, myself. Of course, he also could be a CSI junkie and studied it up on the net or in books. My main concern is that there is absolutely no pattern that I can see. No specific MO. There is no set time frame between kills. He might strike again today or sometime next year for all we know."

"Well, if his note was any indication, I don't think he's going to wait another year."

"Yeah." Rolling his head to ease aching shoulders, Booth glanced at his watch. "We'd better get this stuff packed up. The manager said he'd send a bellhop for our bags. I'd hate to have some poor kid walk in and see all of this."

Brennan nodded agreement and turned to the table and started the process of turning off her computer just as there was a knock at the door. Booth scooped the files into a briefcase before answering it. He asked the bellhop to wait just a few moments and started to place his clothes into their appropriate bags. Brennan worked around him, gathering her own items. She then headed to the bathroom to take care of all of their toiletries. When she exited the bathroom, she found that Booth had finished packing up her computer and her suitcase was already closed.

He looked up with an amused smile which was quickly accompanied by a wink. "You ready, Bones? The Honeymoon Suite awaits."

She took one look at Booth's handsome profile as he bent to pick up his bag. _As ready as I'll ever be._

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Ok, people. I've been thinking it over, and I'm ready to beg for reviews. I know that this chapter was long…and case heavy. But, did it come out ok? Please review. I might be inspired to let loose the fluff bunnies more often if you review. 


	8. Statements over Iced Tea

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **I'm so very sorry that it's been so long since my last update. Life has not been accommodating to this little pastime of mine. Also, once again, a great big thank you to my reviewers. It is greatly appreciated!

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 8 

Hotel – State College, Pennsylvania

Monday, September 4th – 2:42pm

Agent Meredith Scott was perturbed. Actually, strike that. She was more than perturbed – she was thoroughly pissed off. She'd been standing in the lobby of the visiting Agent's hotel for over 30 minutes waiting for Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan to join her. They were supposed to be driving to Julian to meet with Russ and Ben Johnson and Julie Woodring at 3:00pm. She looked at her watch. _Yeah right. Like that's happening now._ She adjusted her stance and tapped neatly manicured nails on the marble column that her hip was resting against. When neither the agent nor the doctor had arrived by 2:50, she marched up to the Front Desk to call them. It did not improve her mood when the front desk clerk just gave her a nasty look and stated with a sniff that "they do not encourage disturbing the guests of that suite, especially after they have just arrived." She argued with the clerk for five minutes before finally resorting to pulling out her badge and demanding to know what room they were in. She knew that he didn't have to tell her, but she made sure to just slightly flash a view of her gun to help emphasize her point. Now it was two minutes to 3:00 and, even more pissed, she found herself marching down a long hotel corridor looking for Suite 125.

When she arrived, the bronze plaque beside the door stopped her dead in her tracks. _The Honeymoon Suite? I'm stuck in some shitty motel, and the FBI is paying for them to stay in the Honeymoon Suite at a golf resort? _Her irritation level went through the roof. She raised her hand to pound on the door, but stopped as she heard yelling from inside.

"Dammit, Booth! I said no! What part of no don't you understand? Get your hands off –"

"Oh come on, Bones. You're just all pissy that you didn't decide to make the first move."

"I am not! Now let go of me and take it back out!"

Scott's eyes widened. _You've got to be fucking kidding me! I swear to God that if they've kept me waiting so that they could have sex…I'll kill them both! _She happily visualized barging into the room with gun drawn. An outraged scream from inside the room brought her attention back to what its occupants were saying. She realized that while lost in her happily violent thought, she'd missed a sentence or two of their argument as it was once again Brennan's voice that she heard.

"No, I will not come back over there. Get away from me! I told you – "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard you. That's just fine, Bones. Try to keep up your front. You and I both know that what you really want is – "

_Oh, I don't want to hear this! _With a growl of irritation, Scott once again raised her hand and, this time, viciously pounded on the door in front of her. She was surprised when, mere seconds later, a fully dressed and obviously enraged Agent Booth answered the door with a snarled, "What!" In the next moment, his expression had changed from one of anger to recognition to rueful embarrassment.

He cleared his throat. "Is it that time already? My, my…how time flies when you're having fun," he said, tossing that last word over his shoulder towards the room's other occupant.

He opened the door a little wider to show Dr. Brennan sitting on a plush couch, hunched over an expensive looking laptop.

"Hey, Bones. We're late."

Her head whipped in his direction, her eyes narrowed to mere slits in a glare that made Scott very happy not to be the person the doctor was angry with.

"Well, we wouldn't have this problem if you'd learn to keep your hands off of my computer…and my cell phone, for that matter." She turned back to the laptop still muttering, "Grabby, presumptuous bastard. Now I have to fix it. Like I would want a picture of me with him on my profile just because after I broke up with David he changed the picture on his profile. How juvenile is that? I don't know what the hell Angela was thinking when she snapped that photo, anyway."

_Her computer? Profile? All of that was over a lousy photograph?_

Booth rolled his eyes. "Your electronics and your profile are all fine, Bones. Come on. Time to go. Agent Scott is waiting," he said as he turned to said agent with his charm smile turned up to full blast. "Sorry 'bout that, by the way. Bones here was having a bit of a technical issue."

Scott could only shake her head at his audacity. _Or maybe it's stupidity._

Brennan, for her part, ignored that last verbal volley in favor of "accidentally" stomping on his foot as she pushed past him and out the door.

Booth – wisely, in Scott's opinion – kept his mouth shut and motioned the local agent into the hall, waiting until he thought she wouldn't see before wincing and wriggling his foot around. With one last jiggle of the handle to ensure that the door was secure, he turned lightly on his injured extremity and followed the two women down the hall.

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Johnson Residence – Julian, PA

Monday, September 4th – 3:34pm

Twenty minutes later, Booth found himself standing on the front porch of a modest, ranch-style home that was nestled into a natural break in the valley's hillside. A cheerful yellow with white-washed shutters, the home appeared well tended. He rang the doorbell and turned to look over the freshly mown lawn and half-built, free-standing garage. The walk to the front door was lined with small American flags, while the yard was bordered on all sides by what looked to be Lilac shrubs, Queen Anne's Lace and some sort of shrub that he couldn't identify offhand. The property boasted a long gravel driveway. It curved about a tenth of a mile down the way, so even the road was out of sight. It was quiet enough to hear a few birds chirping in the distance and a stream babbling nearby.

He turned as he felt Bones' hand on his arm. She pointed, indicating that she had seen someone in the window.

Russell Johnson opened the door with a smile on his face. He waved off the Agents' apologies for their lateness as he ushered everyone into his home's spacious living room.

"No problem. It happens. I'm just glad you made it here ok. The kids'll be home from school in about 20 minutes. Susie, Julie's mom, gave her permission to get off the bus here instead of at her place, so you won't have to make two stops."

Booth nodded as he seated himself in one of the comfortable looking chairs that ringed a rough-hewn, log coffee table. Scott and Brennan sat down on either end of a plush loveseat, as Mr. Johnson sat opposite them in an obviously well-used rocking chair.

"So, Agents…Doctor, is there anything you want to ask just me before the kids get here? And, are you sure I can't get you anything to eat or drink? My wife just finished a batch of fresh, sun-brewed, iced tea."

Booth declined the beverage for all three of them and leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees. "Mr. Johnson, would you briefly run through your version of events? I would like to hear about what you saw, both before and after you got to the clearing by the creek."

"Sure, Agent Booth." Russ adjusted the cushion that was on his chair and leaned further back. He seemed the picture of calm until one noticed that his knuckles were white where he was gripping the well-worn arms of the rocker. He took a deep breath and began, "Well, we had all gone down to the ball field to watch the game. I'm sure you can tell that not a whole lot happens in these parts, so it's somethin' that most of the town likes to turn out for. Now, mind you, I'd been to the field just the day before, too. I was helping to make sure that the grass in the outfield was cut and whatnot. The team relies on volunteers for that sort of thing." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, I certainly hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. So, the day of the game, I was sitting on the outside edge of the stands with my wife. I'd seen Ben and Julie walk down towards the creek not long before. I didn't think anything of it – I mean, they're good kids – when I suddenly heard Julie scream. God, I don't think I've ever been so scared in all my life. I didn't even think about it; I just took off running to see what was wrong. Well, I was the closest to the trail, so I got down there just ahead of the others and saw poor Julie bent over the bushes. Poor girl was white as a sheet. And, Ben didn't look no better. By then, everyone else had come to a stop kinda behind me."

He stopped speaking as Mrs. Johnson walked into the room with a tray full of ice tea glasses and a small bowl with sliced lemons. She placed the tray on the coffee table, passing a glass to her husband, and asked if it was ok if she stayed. Booth nodded, so she sat in the matching rocker beside Mr. Johnson.

"Thanks, honey." He took a long sip of his tea before continuing. "So, I could tell that, besides Julie being sick, there wasn't anything physically wrong with the kids, and I didn't see anyone or any animals around. So, I was kinda confused as to what had happened until Ben pointed towards the clearing. My poor son. It 'bout tore my heart out. He was terrified. His skin was pasty, and his hand was shaking. Well, I didn't know what to expect, so I stepped really carefully over towards where he pointed. At first, I didn't know what I was looking at. I mean, it was obvious that there was some garbage in the clearing that didn't belong there, but…" He snorted, and his wife reached for his hand. "Garbage. That's the thought that ran through my head. It prob'ly took a good 30 seconds before I realized what that 'garbage' really was. I can't even begin to imagine the type of person that would do that to another human being. There were so many pieces…" His voice trailed off as he relived the moment, even if only in his own memory.

Brennan leaned forward for a glass of iced tea. The clink of the glass on the metal of the tray seemed to catch Mr. Johnson's attention for he shook his head and continued. "Well, luckily I had my cell phone on me, so I called 911. Mary was the dispatcher that day. We went to school together. Anyway, I told her what was wrong and said she'd need to get people out there right away. Then, I kind of directed everyone else over to the edge of the creek bed."

"I'm curious, Mr. Johnson. How did you know to do that?"

Russ looked slightly offended, and Brennan saw Booth give a disapproving look at her choice of wording. So, she attempted to clarify her meaning. "I mean, not everyone would have been so level-headed under those circumstances."

"Oh. Well, Dr. Brennan, I might be from a hick town, but even I watch crime shows on TV. I knew that the police would want to talk to everyone, but wouldn't want us all just traipsin' around the area. So, I figured that was the best place for everyone to wait. It kept them there, but away from the clearing. Now, I did have Old Mike run up to the field to make sure everyone else stayed away, and to let them know that everyone was ok. And, I asked him to get Julie and Ben some water and some crackers from the concession stand. They weren't looking too steady, and I was afraid of shock setting in. But, other than that, everyone stayed put until Bobby got there."

"Of course, once Bobby saw the scene, he called in for all sorts of backup and crime scene people. We all stayed long enough to give our statements, and then we left. For the most part, everyone either went back to watch the end of the game or went home."

"What did you do Mr. Johnson?"

"Well, Agent Scott, I brought everyone home. Julie had gone with us to the game, so I wanted to get her home and let her mom know what had happened. And, Ben wasn't lookin' too good, so I wanted him to get some rest."

Booth thought of his own son and nodded. "That's fully understandable, Mr. Johnson. Now, you stated that you had been at the field the day before. Did you see anyone or anything in the area that seemed unusual?"

"No, Agent Booth. We were just around the field though. Like I said – we cut the grass, redd up some garbage and made sure the dugouts and concession stand were ready. I don't think anyone went down towards the creek at all."

"Have you heard anything about any strangers in town?"

"No. But, you should check at the gas station. If there were any strangers in town, Jesse woulda heard about it."

"Do you have a last name for Jesse?"

"Sure. Jesse Surovec. You can't miss it. It's right there along 220 after the hill into town."

Booth noted the name in his ever present notebook. Just as he flipped it shut, they heard the front door open. A very pretty, but frustrated, young woman appeared in the doorway, apparently mid-argument with whomever was following her. " – back my phone!" She stuck out her hand expectantly.

"What is it with men and stealing cell phones?"

Booth shot a glare at Brennan.

"What? Apparently you all do it!" She gestured first towards him and then towards the young man who was now in the doorway holding a cell phone high above his head. "See!"

"Ya know, Bones. I've borrowed your phone…what? Twice? It's not exactly a crime."

"Taken, Booth. Taken my phone. And, it was three times, Booth. Three! And, that one time it was so you could order a hooker! That should count more than once."

Mrs. Johnson and Scott gasped, while Mr. Johnson chuckled. Booth's cheeks turned slightly pink as he stuck his chin out and defended himself. "It's a long story, but it was for a case. I didn't do anything wrong. Nothing inappropriate happened. I just talked to her."

Mrs. Johnson's expression relaxed, but Scott still looked skeptical.

Booth turned his glare her direction. "We only talked. We were in a public place! You could even ask the security guard that interrupted us."

At Scott's raised brow, Mr. Johnson burst into laughter. Mrs. Johnson hid a smile behind her iced tea glass, and the two teens in the doorway stood frozen in their tracks with mouths hanging open.

Booth's cheeks flamed a little brighter, and he dropped his head a fraction. "That didn't come out right, did it?" He shot a look at his partner that would've caused a lesser woman to edge away from him. Brennan just sat up straight on the loveseat and glared back.

In the meantime, the young woman in the doorway used the distraction the conversation caused to her advantage and swiped her phone from the young man's hand.

"Hah! Thank you very much." She flipped her long brunette hair over her shoulder and smirked triumphantly.

Taking pity on the still red-faced agent, Russ decided introductions were in order. "Julie, Ben…come in here and have a seat. These are the FBI people we talked about yesterday."

Both teens stepped into the room. They sat down on the two chairs that had evidently been brought in from the kitchen.

Pointing to the visitors, Russ said, "This here is Agent Booth, Agent Scott and Dr. Brennan. Agents and Doctor, this is Julie Woodring and my son, Ben."

"Hi," Julie said with a slight wave.

"Sir, Ma'am's."

Booth knew that these kids had already had a rough enough time with all of this. So, he tried to make it quick.

"I know that you've already given your statements to the police. But, would you two just do me a favor and run through what happened one more time? It will be a great help to our investigation."

Ben spoke up first. "Sure, Agent Booth. We were just walking down to the creek to get away from the little kids. When we got there, Julie thought she smelled something funny. Well, the last thing I would want is for one of the kids to come down and find a dead animal or something. So, we started to look around to see what it was."

Julie's voice was subdued as she picked up from there, "Ben was looking over by the creek bed. There are a couple of spots where the bank drops down and back in. Creating a pocket, ya know? I was looking in the underbrush. Well, I didn't see anything at all until I saw – "

Much like his mother's show of comfort, Ben reached out and took Julie's hand. "It's ok. I can tell them."

She looked up at him. "No, I'm the one that saw it first." She turned wide, hazel eyes back towards Brennan and Scott. "You know how you tend to notice things about other women…their nails or their hair?"

Scott nodded. Brennan wasn't sure what Julie was talking about, so she didn't move.

"Well, anyway…I noticed this curl of hair mixed in with some leaves. I moved closer because it didn't look like animal hair at all. When I rounded the one tree…" The girl looked down at her lap and took a few deep breaths. When she looked back up, there were tears in her eyes. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and continued. As she spoke, her voice rose slightly, constrained in an effort to stop a flow of tears. "When I rounded the tree, I could see what was left of her face. It was only then that I noticed that there wasn't anything attached to her…" She paused again and gestured towards her own neck. Her breathing came in shallow bursts, as though she couldn't get enough air, and tears formed in her eyes.

Booth started to say something, but she held up her hand.

"No. I want to do this. I want you to hear it from me, because I was the first one to see her. When I saw that her head wasn't…it was like one of those magic image posters. You know – the ones where you have to stare at it and stare at it and all of a sudden the picture becomes clear? Well, it was like that. I suddenly realized that all of the small splotches of color that were in the clearing and back under the bushes were part of a body. It was awful. And now, when I close my eyes, all I can see is what was left of her face. But what's worse is that all I can think about is what beautiful hair she had." Her voice ended with a strangled sob, and Mrs. Johnson quickly jumped up and pulled her into her arms. Making shushing noises, she sat in the chair and pulled Julie onto her lap like she would a smaller child. Julie whispered, "I'm sorry. I just – "

To Booth's surprise, it was Brennan that interrupted. "No, Julie. Don't be sorry. You have every right to be upset and to cry. It's ok. Telling us yourself…that was very brave."

Ben squeezed her hand to show his agreement with what the doctor had to say. With her head tucked under Mrs. Johnson's chin, Julie acknowledged the statement with a nod, but stayed where she was for a few more moments.

Booth turned his attention to Ben, who recounted his reaction to Julie's scream…running to her side to see what she was pointing at and moving her away from the clearing before she was ill. He didn't have anything else to add since that was where his father's statement began.

Leading Scott and Brennan to the door, Booth thanked the family for their time. As they walked to the waiting SUV, the agent came up with a new plan of attack. Agent Scott was going to schedule a time to talk to the guy who owned the gas station. In the meantime, Booth and Brennan agreed that it was about time for them to head back to D.C. They were expecting results on the analysis of the note shortly. The bones should also be about ready, and Brennan wanted to be there to examine them in person. After all, the note and those bones were the only leads that they had.

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Since most of you are probably _not_ from Pennsylvania, here is my Glossary for this chapter with a definition taken from dictionary (dot) com: **redd**1 (rd) _tr.v._ _Chiefly Pennsylvania_ **redd·ed,** or **redd** **redd·ing,** **redds **To clear: _redd the dinner table._ **_Phrasal Verb: redd up _**To tidy: _redded up the front room._

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First, I hope no one was offended by the use of the word "hick". I'm from Julian, and I'm proud of my hometown. But, the word really does fit. lol

Second, I don't know if this was worth the wait or not. I needed to tie up some loose ends so that Booth and Brennan could get back to D.C. So, why don't you press the little button and let me know what you think. Please? I'm seriously begging here. I mean, I know people are reading, but the review count is teensy tiny. I seriously don't mind if you have something you like, constructive criticism or both. After all, I can't improve without knowing what you have to say, right? So….pretty, pretty please?


	9. Relaxation Techniques

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Ok. I officially give up on begging for reviews. It definitely didn't work. So, if you like it, let me know. I'll adore you for it! If you have some advice, I'll happily take that, too. :-) Otherwise, read and, hopefully, enjoy.

**A Special Thank You **to Goldpiece. I greatly appreciate your continued encouragement and input. Thank you so much! This chapter is for you. :)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 9 

Hotel Suite 125 – State College, Pennsylvania

Monday, September 4th – 10:16 pm

Brennan winced as she leaned forward to pick up her mug of hot chocolate. However, grimacing as the cold liquid hit her tongue, she quickly set the mug back down. It had been such a long day. Once they were finished at the Johnson residence, the group had returned to the hotel where they had shared dinner at the resort's French restaurant. Once Agent Scott had left, she and Booth had made their way back to their room, changed into more comfortable clothing and spread the case files about the central area of the suite. Booth listed the basic facts of the cases while Brennan plugged the data into a simple spreadsheet. They had been hoping to spot some link that would give them an idea of where the killer might look for his next victim. Unfortunately, they were unable to find any common theme between the victims. They had nothing to work from except the note which, according to the FBI labs, had no special characteristics. It was an average computer printed note on regular, store-bought cardstock paper. No prints. No fancy inks. They had gone over the poem, or whatever it was, for the past couple of hours. However, neither could make any sense out of the lines. It provided nothing solid for them to work with. She sighed and glanced at the time in the corner of her computer screen. _Is it really that late? No wonder my neck hurts._ Closing her eyes, she stretched out full length on the sofa. Booth, who was just exiting his room, paused in the doorway to admire her lithe form as she twisted to ease a kink in her neck. He found himself unable to look away as he watched her shirt slowly creep up, exposing the long line of her taut stomach. He couldn't help but admire the supple arch of her back and the graceful curve of her neck as she extended her arms high above her head. He also noticed her wince as she lowered her arms and rotated her neck from one side to the other.

"You're doing it again."

_Damn it. _"Doing what, Bones?"

"Staring at me." Brennan fully opened her eyes and looked up towards her partner. "That's twice in two days. Keep it up, and I'll start to wonder what you're thinking about." She was bewildered to find his features darkening with a blush. His eyes, unguarded in his surprise, shone with what looked like slight panic and…something else. _Interesting. _It was the same look that she had been unable to identify earlier while they were discussing his reaction to the Morton file. This time, however, she doubted that the phone was going to ring to interrupt their conversation. And, she really wanted to know what that elusive "something" meant. _What on Earth is going on with him this weekend?_

"You going to stand there all night, Booth, or are you going to join me?"

Booth felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Over there?"

Laughing, Brennan sat up and once again rotated her neck and shoulders. "Well, you could stand in the doorway for the rest of the evening. But, I don't think you'll be very comfortable." She shrugged and once again winced, placing a hand to the back of her neck. "It's your call, but I think the sofa might be a better choice."

Booth realized she was right and that he acting like a teenage boy who had been left alone in the house with a girl for the first time. _This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me? It's just Bones. _So, he pushed away from his bedroom doorway and walked across the room, perching carefully on the opposite end of the couch.

Brennan couldn't help but burst out laughing again. "Booth! What is up with you this weekend?"

At his quizzical look, she waved her hand at the distance between them. "Did Angela say something to you? I don't know what she might have told you that made such an impression, but I promise I have no plans to attack you or anything. Feel free to use a little more room than that."

Booth realized that in his determination to just act like a grown adult and join Brennan on the couch, he'd only managed to walk over and sit primly up against the low armrest. _Hell, I'm practically sitting on it!_ Then he realized that he had gone so far as to actually pick up a throw pillow and hold onto it for dear life and couldn't help but recognize the hilarity of the situation. He honestly tried to stop himself from bursting out laughing, but was unable to contain it. When Brennan looked at him like he'd lost his mind, he only laughed harder.

"Oh my god. Angela did say something, didn't she? What was it? I'll kill her when we get home."

Booth waved his hand and, still smiling, attempted to get his breathing under control. "No, Bones. She didn't say anything. I'm sorry I'm acting so strangely. I don't know what's wrong with me. I haven't been sleeping well, and this case just has me on edge. It's must not be a good combination." He let loose the death grip he had had on the pillow and turned sideways on the couch, placing one arm along the back of it. "There. Is that better?"

"Yes. Are you sure Angela didn't say anything?"

"Yes, Bones, I'm sure. Why? What reason would Angela have to say something to me about you?"

Brennan just looked at him. "It's Angela. Does she need a specific reason?"

"Good point."

Booth watched as Brennan turned to face him, once again grimacing.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I just have a kink in my neck that won't go away. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine by tomorrow."

In hearing confirmation of Brennan's neck pain, Booth forgot all about his recent discomfort at being near her. "Bones, scoot your way over here."

"Huh?"

Booth sighed and motioned her closer. "I said, scoot your way over here."

"Why? What're you going to do?"

Her suspicious tone caused him to roll his eyes and let out a huff. "I'm going to massage your neck. Why be in pain all night when I can fix the problem now? This way you'll actually get some sleep before we head out in the morning. Now get over here."

Brennan could find no logical reason to object. In fact, his argument made perfect sense. She was going to have a lot of work to do once she got back to D.C., so she really did need to get a good night's sleep. So, she did as requested and moved over to sit just in front of him, her back to him.

"Geez, Bones. Have you always been this tall? Never mind. Don't answer that. Hang on a sec." With that, he moved himself back further so that he was sitting up on the cushy arm of the sofa, one foot wedged between the sofa's back and cushions, the other on the coffee table.

"Ok. Scootch back further."

When she had complied he declared the arrangement perfect. He started to reach towards her before he paused and peered at her over her shoulder, his expression one of apprehension. "You're not gonna hit me or anything when I touch you, right?"

She turned her head and took a deep breath to ask why she would have bothered moving only to hit him when she saw his face break into a huge smile. She swatted at his leg. "Shut up, Booth."

"Ouch. Be nice to me, or I won't do your shoulders."

He chuckled when she only rolled her eyes and turned her back to him once again. However, his sense of levity passed when he realized that he would need to gather her hair and move it out of the way in order to work on her neck. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that touching her hair – running his fingers through the silky strands – had been involved in every unacknowledged fantasy he'd ever had about his partner. But, since he wasn't honest with himself, he pretended it was business as usual for him to ask, "Umm, Bones? Do you have one of those hair thingies of yours handy?"

She reached towards the coffee table, grabbed a hair band and started to pull her hair up. Booth grabbed the band from her hand and pushed her arms back down.

"Now I saw you wince earlier when you put your arms up. It defeats the purpose if you're going to do it now and make your muscles more tense than they already are."

With that, he slowly ran his fingers across her head, gently massaging her scalp, as he lightly gathered her hair into a loose ponytail. He took his time, enjoying the smooth feel of it as he ran his hands across her hair, making sure that he hadn't missed any before winding it into a sloppy bun. He twisted the band around until it was secure, but not too tight, causing little wisps of her hair to float down and around towards her face.

"There. That's better."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he reached forward with both hands and ran his thumbs down the long line of Brennan's neck. He could feel just how tight the muscles were and winced in sympathy. _No wonder she can barely move it._ With renewed focus, he started out lightly, rubbing his thumbs in small circles as he moved his hands down from the base of her skull to the tops of her shoulders. Every once in awhile he would simply slide his thumbs straight down her smooth skin, carefully feeling for tightened and knotted muscles. Each time he came across one, he would spend a little time focusing on that area, gently kneading until the knot would loosen. Then, he would start the process over again by running his hands down and along her shoulders. As he worked, slowly and patiently, he could feel her start to relax. Her breathing became even and calm. He continued at a leisurely pace, working each knot lightly. When he had finished with her neck, he moved his hands down to her left shoulder. Once again, he started by gently gliding the palm of his hand across her shoulder and upper back to locate the most tense areas before using the pads of his thumbs to work the knots away. Soon, they were both lost in the rhythm of his touch. Smooth with the palm…knead with the thumbs…smooth with the palm…knead with the thumbs...smooth with the palm…

"Hey, Bren! Are you still…Oh. My. God!"

Angela's voice, ringing loud and clear through the computer speakers caught them both by surprise. Their gazes jerked in unison towards the computer screen just in time to see Angela's features break into a grin of Cheshire proportions.

Brennan groaned as she realized that she had left the computer, and its associated video uplink to the lab, on and ready just in case Zach had been working late.

"Ange. Wait. Before you get any ideas – "

"Oh, sweetie, there's no need to explain."

"Yes, there is. You see I had a kink in my neck. And Booth, here, was kind enough to help me with it so we could go to bed and get some sleep."

At that statement Booth groaned and dropped his head onto the back of her shoulder.

Angela, on the other hand, just grinned even wider. "Really? He fixed it so you could both go to bed?"

Brennan cried, "Yes!" and then realized the implication of the statement as Angela had phrased it. "I mean, no! Well, yes he was giving me a massage to help my neck, but no it wasn't so we could both go to bed. Well, actually, yes we're both going to bed, but I hadn't really planned on us both going to the same bed. I don't think Booth did, either. After all, we have separate beds. Actually, now that we're in the Honeymoon Suite, we have separate rooms, even. So, really it's like we each have our own rooms – "

"Wait a minute! Did you just say the Honeymoon Suite? As in you and Booth are right now, at this minute, in the Honeymoon Suite where he's giving you a relaxing massage?"

Booth, his head still against Brennan's back, groaned again and glanced sideways to see Angela's smiling face. She was obviously bouncing up and down in her chair in delight. He turned his face back towards the couch and closed his eyes. _This is not good._

Brennan, entirely flustered and unsure of how to properly respond, answered meekly, "Yes?"

"Oh my god, sweetie, I am so happy for both of you! This is the best news ever! You'll see…this is the best decision you've ever made! I can't wait to tell Jack and Zach. Oh my god, they'll be so happy for you, too! I mean, we had all hoped that you two would figure it out – "

"No, wait! That's not what I meant! I –"

Booth's hand stopped her from getting them into even more trouble. He didn't even look up as he addressed the exceptionally happy artist.

"Angela, was there an important reason for your call, so to speak?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing important when compared to this!" Angela broke off and squealed.

_Ouch. That hurts the ears._ "Angela! Focus for a moment. Is it the type of information that can't wait until morning?"

"Oh. No. Of course not. After all, I'm sure you two have better things you could be doing right now. It can definitely wait."

"Great." He reached out jabbed the button to shut the computer down.

"Booth! That's not how you properly shut down a computer!"

Booth used his hands on her shoulders to turn her towards him.

"Bones, I really don't think that is of major concern right now. We both need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is, apparently, going to be a very, very long day. So, why don't you go to your room, while I go to my room. And, I'll see you first thing in the morning? Okay?"

"Okay."

They stood up and walked towards their separate sleeping chambers. Just as Booth was about to close his door, he heard Brennan call his name. He look over towards where she was framed in her doorway, a soft smile gracing her features.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Thanks. For earlier. I really do feel much better."

He smiled back and, just before he closed his door, he responded, "You're welcome, Bones. Sweet dreams."

"You, too, Booth. You, too."

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Well, Goldpiece, it didn't come out with _quite_ the same set-up that we had talked about. But, I hope you like it anyway. :)

Anyone else want to chime in with their thoughts? You know what to do.


	10. Dreams and Decorations

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Ok. So, I officially gave up on begging for reviews in the last chapter, and what happens? I end up with more reviews than I've received for any of the previous 5 chapters. lol So, since I really do like and appreciate reviews, I'm going to continue with my not begging plan. :-P

**A Special Thank You **to Goldpiece for giving me her honest opinion after previewing the beginning of this chapter. As always, I appreciate your continued encouragement. Thank you so much:-)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 10 

Hotel Suite 125 – State College, Pennsylvania

Tuesday, September 5th – 5:09 am

_She sighed and languidly closed her eyes as he leaned in from behind her. Using one hand to brush a silky cascade of hair out of the way, he placed a soft kiss just below her ear. Breathing in her soft scent, he traced his way up to her temple, where he placed another kiss, his lips lingering near her skin as she slowly turned to face him. He brushed his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her neck as, eyes still closed, she tilted her head back to allow him access to the smooth line of her throat. She breathed deeply as his head dipped lower, his mouth coming to rest upon her warm skin. He paused to run the tip of his tongue over her pulse, feeling the beat hasten at that gentle touch. A shuddering breath escaped him as her fingernails traced a pattern down his spine._

"Booth." Brennan whispered, trying to get his attention as she opened the door to the room. She chuckled when he didn't wake up or even move from his position on the bed. He looked awfully cute sleeping on his stomach, clutching a pillow like a teddy bear.

_He hummed lightly as he slowly nipped and licked a path back to her waiting lips. Hearing her whisper his name, he captured her mouth with his – the contact searing a path through his body as he pulled her fully against him. _

"Mmmm. Temperance," Booth muttered as he turned his head towards her in his sleep. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he hugged the bed's extra pillow closer to him.

Brennan's eyebrows went up in surprise as she walked closer, wondering if she wanted to know what he was dreaming about. But, shaking her head, she remembered why she was trying to wake him at this early hour. She reached out and gently shook his shoulder, calling his name a little louder this time. When that didn't work, she grabbed both of his shoulders and shook him harder. She called his name again, but to no avail.

_She suddenly surprised him by grabbing his shoulders and turning him forcibly into the nearest wall. Once again moaning his name, she leaned up to resume their desperate and hungry kiss. Her nails raked along the skin of his shoulders and upper arms. He reached around her waist, tightening his grip and pulling her close._

Brennan watched as Booth suddenly clutched at the pillow like a lifeline and groaned. Hoping he wasn't sick, she placed her hand against his forehead to check that his temperature was ok.

_He felt her reach up and run her fingers through his hair and then down to his cheek. He turned his head to the side, placing a kiss along the palm of her hand before licking the length of her slender fingers and pulling one into his mouth._

Startled when Booth licked her hand, Brennan reacted without thinking and slapped him. Instantly realizing what she had done, she gasped and pulled away as he opened startled eyes and blinked dazedly.

"Booth. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just reacted. I'm so – "

Rubbing a hand over his face, Booth blinked a few more times before interrupting his partner's rambling. "Bones, what're you talking about? An', what time is it?"

"Huh?"

"You're standing in my room rambling apologies at – " He grabbed his phone to check the time, " – a quarter after five in the morning. What's going on?"

"You licked my hand. And, I just reacted. I'm so sorry I slapped you. You don't remember?"

Brennan thought she saw a spark of recognition in Booth's eyes before he sat up, still clutching the pillow. He looked at her in amazement before asking, "I did what?"

"I was trying to wake you up. But, you weren't cooperating. Then, you groaned, and I thought you might be sick. So, I felt your head to make sure you didn't have a temperature. When I moved my hand, you licked it. Then, I slapped you. I really didn't mean to, Booth. I'm so sorry."

Running his hands through his hair, Booth flashed back to the moment in his dream where Temperance had turned him against the wall and… He forced the memory from his mind. That must have been when he… _Ah, hell._

"No, Bones. It's ok. I'm sorry if I did something to make you…uncomfortable." He gave her a sheepish grin. "I must've really been out. Normally I wake up at the slightest sound."

"It didn't make me uncomfortable, Booth. It just surprised me."

Booth's amused smirk made her realize what she'd said.

"I mean – "

Waving off the coming denial, he tried to find out why she was in his room at such an ungodly hour. "Bones, was there a reason you woke me up, in the first place?" He smiled to make sure she knew he wasn't unhappy, just curious.

"Oh! I got a call from Zach."

"At this hour? Bones, you're rubbing off on the kid a little too much, don't'cha think?"

"Zach is very dedicated to his work. I would think he should be commended for his initiative."

Shaking his head, Booth took a breath to explain his point and then changed his mind. "Never mind. Bones, could you do me a favor and order some coffee while I get changed? I think I'm going to need it."

"Already done. It should be here soon."

"Great. I'll just need a few minutes."

As Brennan exited the room and closed the door, Booth groaned and buried his face in his hands. _That was too close. _Shaking his head, he pushed himself off of the bed and hurried to throw on a t-shirt and sweats and took the time to at least brush his teeth.

As he entered the main room of the suite, he found Brennan at the door accepting breakfast and a precious pot of coffee. Dressed in her sleepwear, with just-out-of-bed hair, she was stunning. It was an opinion that the room service waiter apparently agreed with since he gave her an appreciative once over before tossing an envious look Booth's way. Booth smirked while Brennan, as usual, missed the entire exchange.

When she turned and noticed his smirk, she tilted her head to the side and her forehead crinkled. Booth's grin widened as he took in her appearance. She looked adorable. _Not that I'd tell her that._

"Booth, why are you grinning at me like an idiot?"

_Then again._ "Ya know, Bones, here I was, about to compliment your appearance this lovely morning, and you go and insult me." He shook his finger as he walked towards her. "That's just not nice after slapping me awake at the break of dawn."

He reached for a cup and the carafe of coffee as she blushed. He filled a cup and handed it to her. He then uncovered the plates, determined which was hers and handed that to her as well.

"Thanks," she said as she walked to the sofa and sat down, resuming her position from the previous evening, with her plate in front of her. Booth, after filling his own cup, grabbed his plate and followed. However, this time he sat a bit closer to her than before. He did need to put his food on the coffee table, after all.

"So…" Booth allowed the statement to trail off as he took a bite of his breakfast steak. "Mmmm. This is good."

"So, what?"

Booth tried to smother his amusement at her uncharacteristic forgetfulness, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. "So…what did Zach say that was so important that we had to get up this early in the morning? By the way, I can get you more coffee if that'll help." He stuck another piece of steak in his mouth.

"Oh!" She grimaced at her lapse and looked at her cup. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Zach said something this morning about the case that gave me an idea. I think we might have a lead. Or, be able to get a lead. But, I have him checking on a few things just to be sure."

With a fork halfway to his mouth, Booth turned to her in amazement. "You're kidding! What did he say? What's the lead?"

"Huh uh. I'm not sure I'm right yet, and you know how much I hate to speculate without proper evidence to support my theory. However, can your people pull both student enrollment applications and employment applications for the forensics related departments at all of the schools that are involved in this case?"

"Of course. Anything you need."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Well, it depends upon how quickly I can get the proper warrants and how quickly the schools respond. But, this is a serial murder investigation. I'm pretty sure I can pull a few strings to speed the process along."

"Perfect. Then all we need to do is get back to D.C. as soon as possible to review all of the data as it comes in. Zach should have what I asked him for by the time we get there."

"You're really not gonna tell me what your idea is, are you?"

She quickly nabbed a piece of steak from his plate and stuck it into her mouth. "Nope."

He smacked her hand with his fork as she reached towards his plate for another bite of steak. "In that case, no more steak for you." He stabbed the piece she had been going for and popped it into his mouth with a smile.

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Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian

Tuesday, September 5th – 11:29am

Brennan took a deep breath as she walked into the Medico-Legal Lab. She was happy to be home. After quickly finishing breakfast and getting ready to leave, she and Booth had had a quick and uneventful drive back to DC. _It's amazing how much faster that drive is without football traffic. _Since Booth had needed to stop in at his office to check on the status of the data he had requested, he dropped Brennan at her apartment so she could grab her car and get to the lab. Before he left, he'd said he would meet her in about 45 minutes. So, she'd only taken the time to quickly throw her bags in her front door before heading to work. She was anxious to see if Zach had been able to track down the information she has asked for that morning. And, if he had, she wanted the information to be ready for Booth when he arrived.

For once, she didn't spy a single member of her staff as she walked through the lab on the way to her office. So, she figured she could just drop off her laptop and grab her lab coat before hunting them down. Since the lights to the office were off and the door closed, she wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her as she walked in and hit the light switch.

"What the hell?"

She had just enough time to register a large festive banner before soft music started blaring through her office's stereo system at a volume much louder than normal.

"Every time I look at you the world just melts away  
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections  
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am  
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land

You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together  
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in  
You're all the things that I desire you save me you complete me  
You're the one true thing I know I can believe…"

As the initial shock wore off, Brennan looked around her office, jaw hanging open. There were vases of roses, teddy bears holding hearts and dozens of pink and red balloons. But, the most eye-catching item was the large, sparkling banner opposite the door. It read: Booth & Bones – It's About Time!

Shoulders slumping, Brennan let out a heart-felt groan. In her excitement at having a possible idea for the case, she'd completely forgotten the scene from last night.

"Angela!" She turned towards the door to go find her best friend. But, she was too late. Her friend had found her, instead.

"Sweetieeeeee!"

Brennan suddenly found herself thrown backwards by the force of the bear hug her best friend gave to her.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea how happy I am for you and Booth. At first I thought that he was teasing me. You know, on the phone Saturday night. But, then I contacted you last night and...eeeeeee! I am sooo thrilled for both of you! You just have no idea how happy I am!"

By now, Angela had let go, but was still holding onto Brennan's arms, jumping up and down in her excitement. Brennan tried to get her to calm down so that she could explain, but it was simply no use. Angela was far too hyper to listen to reason. _Well, at least the music stopped._ She took another look around. "Actually, Ange, I think I can see how happy you are. But, I really need to tell you – "

"Hey, Bones! Whoa! What's with the new office décor? Isn't it a bit – "

"I'll be loving you, always  
With a love that's true, always  
When the things you plan  
Need a helping hand  
I will understand, always, always

Days may not be fair, always  
That's when I'll be there, always  
Not for just an hour  
Not for just a day  
Not for just a year, but, always…"

" – a bit much."

Booth stood in the doorway, completely dumbfounded. That is, until he was nearly tackled by one Angela Montenegro as she threw her arms around his neck in an exuberant hug. He held onto her with one hand, trying to keep them both upright, while using the other to hold a small stack of files out of the way.

Angela suddenly pulled back and kissed his cheek. "Booth! Sweetie, I was just telling Bren how happy I am for the two of you. I told her that I thought you'd been yanking my chain the other night on the phone, and I was plotting my revenge, believe you me. But, then, last night – Eeeeeee! Oh! It's fate! It really, really is!"

Angela grabbed his neck again, causing Booth to look over her shoulder at his partner, eyes pleading for assistance. The look on her face wasn't in the least bit encouraging. Brennan stood just a few feet way, hands on her hips and a rueful smile on her face. She pointed at Booth.

"This really is your fault, you know. You started all of this." She turned the pointing finger into the wave of her hand, indicating the various decorations about the room.

Still caught up in the artist's grasp, he practically growled, "This really isn't the time to place blame, Bones." He pulled back as far as he could from his friendly captor, "Ange, I really need to breathe here."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She chuckled as she continued, "I guess that might have been a little enthusiastic."

"A little? You think?"

"Well, can you blame me? It's just fantastic news! It's – "

Booth was getting ready to place a hand over Angela's mouth to stop another squeal when Dr. Goodman appeared in the doorway.

"For Heaven's sake, what is going on in here? Agent Booth, I really don't think it's appropriate for you to manhandle Ms. Montenegro – "

"I would climb any mountain, sail across the stormy sea  
If that's what it takes me baby, to show how much you mean to me  
And I guess that it's just the woman in you, that brings out the man in me  
I know I can't help myself, you're all in the world to me

Chorus:  
It feels like the first time, feels like the very first time  
It feels like the first time, it feels like the very first time"

" – in that fashion." That last part of the sentence died off as he took in the full spectacle that was Brennan's office. At about that time, the song's chorus died away, leaving the office in silence. "Dear God." He sounded almost faint.

"Would someone please care to explain this…this…THIS?"

He got three answers at once.

"Well, you see Sir, Bones and I were – "

"Dr. Goodman, this was not my idea. I just – "

"Oh my god, you mean no one told you, yet?"

Dr. Goodman held his hands up. "Silence!" He looked at each person in turn. "Ms. Montenegro, please answer this question with one word and one word only. Are you responsible for the decorations and music in Dr. Brennan's office?"

"Yes, sir. But – "

"Stop! I said one word, and I meant it. Thank you for your assistance. You may now go."

Knowing he wouldn't change his mind, she kissed Brennan's check and quickly hugged Booth before practically skipping out the door.

Dr. Goodman, who had been staring at the sign, now looked at the Agent and anthropologist sternly.

"Now, would you both care to explain since it's apparently 'About Time'?"

He watched in amusement as Booth and Brennan looked at each other, blushing. Booth mouthed "you" while Brennan mouthed what appeared to be "your fault" and glared. Booth's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Well, you see Sir, it all started when I was talking to Angela on the phone the other – "

"Dr. Brennan! I have the list you requested ready for your review…Wow." He looked around and then up at the sign before tilting his head quizzically. "What's 'About Time'?"

The three occupants of the office groaned in unison.

"Never mind, Zach. Where's the list?" She then shouted at him when he started to cross the threshold into the office. "No! Stay out there. I'll come to you." As she walked towards the door, Booth heard her muttering to herself. "I don't even want to know what song Angela picked out next."

Booth attempted to follow her but stopped when Dr. Goodman held out a hand. "Agent Booth, I'm fairly certain that you were about to explain the significance of all of this?"

The agent sighed from the tips of his toes and looked longingly at the doorway. "Yes, Sir. Of course."

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The song lyrics, in order of appearance, are as follows below. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any money being made by me. Of course, if people look up the songs and like them, there might be some money made by you. :-)

_Push_ – Written and Performed by Sarah McLachlan

_Always _– Written by Irving Berlin and Performed by Patsy Cline

_Feels Like The First Time _– Written by Lou Gramm & Mick Jones and Performed by Foreigner

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Well, I hope you liked it. You know what to do!


	11. Tempers and Teddy Bears

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. You all make my day:D

A special Thank You to Goldpiece for reviewing this for me. :-D

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 11 

Medico-Legal Lab at The Jeffersonian

Tuesday, September 5th – 12:26pm

Special Agent Seeley Booth had never before been so happy to leave a room. In all of his life, he had never had to answer such rapid-fire, probing questions. Not even during his many interviews and background checks to join the FBI. _They could learn a few things from that man._ After answering the pointed questions of the Jeffersonian's Administrator, he also had a new found sympathy for some of the suspects he'd interrogated in the past. _At least, the innocent ones. _It had taken him a good 15 minutes to explain exactly why Angela thought that he and Brennan were a couple. It had then taken many more to convince Dr. Goodman that they were, in fact, only partners and friends. Booth still wasn't 100 sure that Goodman believed him on that count. Of course, it hadn't helped that just as he'd been in the process of reassuring the man that "really" they had never so much as kissed each other on the cheek, Hodgins had stepped into the office bearing a report for Brennan…prompting Angela's ingenious musical set-up to blare the beginning of Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man"_. I do have to give her an A+ for imagination. But, that last song…eeew. _

"Booth, if you don't actually swipe your card, you'll never be able to climb the stairs to the platform, " Brennan said without looking up from the computer screen she was sharing with Zach.

Blinking, Booth realized that he had walked out to the platform on autopilot, but had stopped at the security post, ID card in hand. Realizing that now both Brennan and Zach were looking at him strangely, he quickly swiped his card and took the stairs two at a time before stopping beside his partner. She looked at him guiltily.

"So, how'd it go with Dr. Goodman?"

"It went. I explained it all, but I'm not entirely sure he believed me." Shrugging, he joined her in looking over Zach's shoulder at the screen. "What's this?"

"Why wouldn't he believe you? And, it's a list of all of the colleges and universities within the U.S. that have Forensics programs."

"Because, Bones, when you actually relay all of the facts about what happened in a narrative format, it doesn't actually sound believable." He paused, "Why'd you need all the schools?"

When she failed to respond, he glanced up to find her looking at him. But, her slightly unfocused gaze told him that she was actually thinking about something, not just staring. So, he waited for an answer. When she finally focused on him, she was blushing slightly.

"You may have a point about how that all looks."

"Gee, ya think?'

Zach, oblivious to the side conversation taking place around him, interrupted, "Dr. Brennan. Agent Booth. How would you like me to cross-reference the data the FBI is sending through to us?"

Booth shrugged. "Beats me. You'll have to ask Bones, here. She's being all hush-hush about her idea." The word "idea" was accompanied by air quotes.

Brenan narrowed her eyes and huffed in frustration before responding. "Booth! How many times do I have to tell you that I hate to theorize without – "

"- researching the facts." Booth's singsong interruption only caused her cross her arms over her chest. "Yeah. I got that part." He tossed her a smirk. "Nice irritated Mom face, by the way."

"Booth! I – "

"Hold your horses, Bones. I wasn't finished. Now, I was going to say that what I don't have is any idea of what facts you're researching and why. And, you didn't answer my last question. Just a reminder."

Brennan took a step closer to him, with her hands on her hip, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Booth glared at Zach. "Just a minute, kid. I think she's about to explain her theory. You interrupt her now, and who knows how long I'll have to wait."

"Damn it, Booth!"

"What? You know it's true," he said. Booth then grinned as Brennan made that face she always used when someone said something that irritated her, but that she also couldn't refute. It was that look where she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and glared. He just loved being the cause of that look. _Besides, it's cute._

Brennan saw his smile turn into a cocky smirk and practically growled at him before answering. "What I was about to say is that I had Zach put together a list of all colleges and universities so that they could be put into chronological order."

"Great. But, how does that help us, Bones?"

Zach looked from Booth to Brennan and back again. "Ummm…Agent Booth? In the past I have found that when Dr. Brennan starts to turn that color, it's normally a good idea to take a step back and also stop talking."

"Exactly, Booth. So, do you think you could try something new and stop interrupting every 30 seconds? If you can manage that, I'll actually be able to tell you what you want to know!"

Seeing that Zach might have a point, Booth took a small step back and mimed zipping his mouth and throwing away the key.

Brennan breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you! Now, if you'll look at the list, you'll see that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of colleges, universities, community colleges, etc., that have forensics degree programs."

Booth risked an "Okay" just to show he was paying attention.

Turning to her assistant, Brennan continued, "Zach, please arrange the list in chronological order based upon the origination of the school's forensics programs. Then, highlight those schools that are associated with this case and pull them into a new window."

"Can do, Dr. Brennan." Zach's fingers flew across his keyboard as he complied with her request.

"Okay, Booth. You're the detective. Tell me what you see." She tried not to look too pleased with herself.

Booth leaned over Zach's shoulder to get a good look at the screen. Still taking in the implications of what the list was showing, along with incorporating the reasoning behind Brennan's early morning information request, he quietly responded, "Bones, you're a genius."

"What does that have to do with the case?"

He smiled at her response. _I should have been expecting that._

"Bones, in light of your brilliant idea, I'm going to ignore that last comment. How did you come up with this?"

She looked proudly at her assistant. "Actually, you can thank Zach for that. When we were talking this morning, he made reference to the fact that Michigan State has the longest running Forensics Department in the nation. And, that Penn State's is one of the newest. That made me think about that lecture I gave at Duquesne. I was there as part of a three year anniversary lecture series that the department was sponsoring for its first batch of incoming seniors. It was at that point that I realized there was possibly a corresponding chronological order to the murders."

"Hence, the information we have my guys digging for. You also realize that makes sense with the note," Booth said as he rubbed his hands together. Wearing the biggest smile Brennan had seen on him in days, he proceeded to nearly knock Zach off of his chair when he clapped him on the shoulder. "Just for that, kid, your meal is on me the next time we're all at Wong Foo's."

Zach beamed. "Thank you, Agent Booth. But, that's not necessary. I didn't really do anything to merit special attention. Besides, it seems unfair to make you to pay since I probably make more money than you."

Booth's smile edged down a shade and he paused to count to ten before plowing ahead. 'Well, I say it is necessary…so it is. Regardless of who makes what. Now, speaking of Wong Foo's, is anyone else hungry? I haven't had Sid's cooking in days. And, we should probably eat now while we're waiting for the rest of the application information to come in. Something tells me we're going to be here awhile."

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Brennan's Office – Medico-Legal Lab

Tuesday, September 5th – 10:49pm

As Booth stood up to stretch, he surveyed his Squints through the open doorway to the lab. Apparently, after seeing both Angela and Hodgins nearly nod off at different points in the evening, they had each found their second wind. Now, they were sitting in front of side-by-side computer screens, talking animatedly about who knew what. From what Booth could tell, neither was really upset. But, there was obviously some Great Debate taking place. As though to illustrate his thought, he saw Angela suddenly reach out to Hodgins and smack him on the back of the head before quickly sliding her chair out of range, laughing hysterically. Booth watched for a few moments more, curious to see if Hodgins would retaliate. He thought the scientist was going to disappoint him when finally he saw Hodgins slip one of his rubber bands off of his wrist and flick it towards Angela's head. It hit her just above the ear. Her squeal of outrage, surprisingly, didn't wake the lab's only other occupant.

As Booth shifted his gaze to the left, he realized that "second wind" wasn't a phrase that could be used in relation to Brennan's assistant. _Poor kid._ Zach had succumbed to exhaustion, for he was now precariously perched on a chair with one arm trailing toward the floor and his other cushioning his head on the edge of the table beside him.

Suppressing his own yawn, Booth turned back into the office to face his partner. However, the sparkling sign dangling from the ceiling caught his attention for the umpteenth time that day. As he once again read the message on it, he had to smile. That smile broadened as his mind flipped to a memory from earlier that afternoon. It was the memory of Bones' face as she had stepped into her office, only to be greeted by the opening verses of "Light My Fire". Her expression had gone from agitated to outraged embarrassment as the chorus began to play. She had immediately dropped what she was carrying to the floor, located the sensors Angela had attached to the door frame and pulled them down. Forcefully.

At Booth's chuckle, the object of his amusement looked up from her computer and blinked slowly before focusing her gaze on him.

"What's so funny, Booth?"

"Nothing important. Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Why don't we call it a night?"

"There's work to do." She pointed out her doorway, "Look, Ange and Jack are fine."

"Yeah, but what about Zach? All he needs in one good snore, and he'll take a header to the floor." He quirked a smile. "Hey. That rhymed."

Brennan chuckled lightly at her partner's bemused expression. "Are you a little tired yourself, there, partner?"

Happy to see her smiling, Booth pinched him thumb and forefinger together before replying with, "Maybe just a little."

He walked over and perched himself beside her on her side of the desk. "Look. It's been a long day." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "These guys have been here since the crack of dawn. We're still waiting for the last of the information to come in. And, the most recent victim's body won't be ready until tomorrow. I think it's best if we all go home and get some rest so that we can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for a fresh start in the morning."

"You know, I never could understand using the last half of that colloquialism to describe one's preparedness to face a situation. I mean, we don't actually have tails, much less bushy ones. Why not just say bright-eyed and well rested?"

"Because, Bones, that's not as much fun." He whined and rolled his eyes. She ignored him as he shook his head and muttered disdainfully, "Bright-eyed and well rested. Geez."

Brennan, instead of responding, started the process of turning off her computer and gathering her things. At Booth's surprised look, she shrugged. "You're right. It's time to go home. Would you tell Angela and the guys?"

"With pleasure." He arose from his position at her desk and started for the door.

"Hey, Booth."

As he was turned, he was startled to find a teddy bear flying towards his face. He caught it and raised an eyebrow in question.

"For Parker." She shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I thought he might like it."

A pleased grin told her she'd done the right thing.

"Thanks, Bones. I'm sure he'll love it."

With that, Booth resumed his path to the lab. He paused by the door to grab another, smaller bear. This time, it was Brennan's turn for a quizzical look.

"That one's for me. A reminder, if you will." He flushed only slightly before making his escape.

Brennan, amused and more than a little surprised, followed his progress into the lab. Then, with a slight smile of her own, turned to the shelf behind her to pick up a bear that matched the one her partner had just claimed as his own. With a glance at the door, she quickly placed it deep into her bag. _After all, there's no reason to give Angela a reason to get started again._ Still smiling, she grabbed her keys, locked her office and followed her team out the door.

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Let me know what'cha think, people. You were way too quiet with the last chapter. :-)


	12. A Day for the Squints

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Thank you to all readers and, especially, to my reviewers. You're the best. :-)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 12 

Deputy Director Cullen's Office, FBI – Washington, D.C.

Wednesday, September 6th – 8:40am

Deputy Director Sam Cullen appeared to be impressed with the quick progress that Special Agent Seeley Booth and his team of squints had made in the past few days. And, for his part, Booth was just happy to be able to report forward movement in the case.

"So, as you can see, sir, we've received almost all of the applications for both faculty and students for the involved educational institutions. Once all of the data is in, we hope to find an indication that our UNSUB has applied to one or more of those schools with negative results. That would supply us with motive, along with an actual name."

"Very good, Agent Booth. Just make sure that the evidence gathered is as tight as possible. I'd like to have something less circumstantial to take to court when we catch this bastard."

"Absolutely, sir. That's not a problem. Dr. Brennan's team should be able to start the process of making…," he glanced a few pages back in his notebook, "…cut mark molds from the bones of the most recent victim in order to attempt to match the weapons or tools used to dismember the remains. According to Bo – I mean Dr. Brennan, she might also have Angela try out a program that will allow them to digitally recreate the bones and marks in detail. That will make the process of matching the appropriate tool or weapon easier and faster since Angela can utilize holographic programming and imagery to sort through and visually test the marks versus the tool in a 3D format. Once that is established and a suspect is in sight, we know exactly what weapons or tools we're looking for since they weren't at the dump site."

Cullen gave him an appraising look. "You might want to be careful, Booth."

Confused, Booth asked, "Why is that, sir?"

"Because, if that little speech you just gave is any indication, I think Dr. Brennan is wearing off on you."

Booth thought over what he'd just said and was somewhat chagrined to realize his boss might just be right. "Yes, sir. I'll keep an eye on that, sir."

"Okay. Get out of here and go meet your bone lady. I want this one closed ASAP. And, please pass along my appreciation for their hard work."

"Thank you, sir. I'll do that."

As Booth walked down the hall toward his office, he reflected upon just how much the Deputy Director's opinion of Bones and her team had changed over recent months. Which was all to the good as far as Booth was concerned. He tried to convince himself that he was simply glad that it made for an easier working environment. However, in reality, he just knew that at some point Bones would do something, most likely an unintentional something, that would piss off his boss to no end. _At least by then I'll have a list of positives that he's already acknowledged as true to use in her defense._ Upon entering his office, Booth's eyes fell upon a new stack of files that had been placed on his desk. A note on top stated that the information had also been sent to the Jeffersonian's server. As he noted the school associated with the files, he quirked a predatory smile. _This should be the last set we need._ He grabbed the new information, secured his office and headed for the Jeffersonian.

On the drive over, Booth took the time to reflect upon the little agreement he had reached with his partner while they were in Pennsylvania. To say that he was pleased with the idea of spending more personal time with her would be an understatement. However, he knew that he would need to be the catalyst for most of the "sharing"…at least until Bones got used to the idea. So, he set about trying to come up with a plan of attack. They already had had quite a few chats at Wong Foo's, so he wanted to extend the boundaries a bit. But, he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was her to feel as though she were being pressured into anything. So, what was personal, but not too personal. _Dinner and a movie is out. She'd see it as a date and completely close herself off._ He needed to pick something completely out of the ordinary. Something she'd never done before, maybe. _Yeah, right. Finding something that little Miss-I've-Walked-Across-Tibet hasn't done oughta be a snap._ As he pulled into the Jeffersonian, Booth was struck with an idea. _With just a little help, that'll be perfect._

A few minutes later, Booth entered the Medico-Legal Lab, files in hand. He spotted Zach up on the platform, pieces of bones laid out on the table before him. However, no one else appeared to be around. So, he walked towards Bones' office. There, he found his partner sitting on the couch with Angela. Given the latter's drooping shoulders and bowed head, he could only assume that Bones was finally getting the chance to break the "bad news" about their non-relationship status. He noticed that the banner and balloons were all missing, but was surprised to see the flowers and stuffed animals still scattered about the room. For once, he knocked lightly before entering. As both women looked up, he couldn't help but to take in their differing expressions – one smiling, happy to see him, and the other…well, just sad.

"Morning, ladies. Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"No!"

Booth glanced from one woman to the other. "Oooookay. As long as you're agreed."

Angela stood up and looked at her two friends before walking to the door, where she stopped. "Ya know, I'll buy the whole 'we're just friends' speech. At least, for now. But, I know what I saw before you realized the feed to the lab was on. Maybe you two couldn't see each others faces, but I could. And that, sweeties, was not a platonic scene." With that said, she pivoted and walked out the door.

"What did she mean by that?"

Booth chose to shrug in response. And, instead of following that particular line of conversation, he gestured toward the stack of files he had brought along.

"This should be the last of the records. Who do they go to?"

"Hodgins is working on that. I already had Zach start a preliminary exam of the victim's bones in order to identify the locations of each and every tool mark. Angela has the skull so that she can begin the process of recreating a face for the victim."

"Good. Do you, by chance, have an idea of what ethnicity, age and height range we might be able to use for a search of the missing persons database? That way we can have the list in hand by the time she's done."

Brennan turned towards the lab. "Let's go find out."

They ran into Hodgins on the way to the platform and gave him the remaining files. He informed them that he already had one or two duplicate names that were appearing. However, he expected that number to increase as the search moved forward. After all, students often apply to more than one university. And, the same could hold true for teaching staff. He promised to keep them up to date on his progress, before swiftly heading to his office.

On the platform, Zach was bent over the bones, carefully scrutinizing the right hand of the victim. As they approached, he looked up, eager as always to work with his mentor.

"Dr. Brennan. As you've instructed, I've arranged the available bones into their anatomically correct positions. I've noted which bones are missing – either in part or as a whole. Those include all ten distal phalanges of the fingers, the left cuboid bone, the left clavicle and the right scapula. I've also started to log the various types of tool marks that are present on each bone, as well as any outstanding characteristics." As he paused for a breath, Zach handed her a clipboard with his preliminary findings. He then caught Booth off guard by turning to address him directly. "I also took the liberty of preparing a preliminary report of the victim's physical description. I'm sure Dr. Brennan will correct me if she concludes differently. However, from my initial exam, I've ascertained that the victim was a female, Caucasian, approximately 18 to 23 years of age and between 5'4" and 5'7" tall."

Zach looked at both Booth and Brennan expectantly. However, they simply gaped in stunned silence.

Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, Zach wilted and started to apologize. "I'm sorry. While you were gone, Dr. Goodman recommended that I am far enough along in my studies to be able to work with more initiative, and that I shouldn't be afraid to express my findings with certainty. Was that an incorrect course of action? Because, Dr. Brennan, I would certainly understand if you would prefer to examine the victim's remains yourself before presenting your own findings to Agent Booth. I am, after all, only a student. I'm here to learn."

After a minute, Brennan got over her initial shock and realized that Zach was waiting for her to speak. She took another look at the bones before looking proudly at her assistant. "No, Zach. That's fine. You did a great job. And, Dr. Goodman is correct. I think that it's time for you to work more independently. I would only ask that you discuss the case with me before starting, continue to ask when you are at all uncertain and that I be consulted before a formal report of any kind is presented regarding any portion of your findings. We'll work on it from there." She smiled softly at him before continuing, "After all. I am your teacher. That's what I'm here for."

Booth looked at his two companions like they had grown second heads. He then rolled his eyes before smirking and saying, "Okay. So, if you two are done with your Hallmark moment, I only need to know what timeline I should use for a missing persons search."

Brennan glared at her partner before muttering, "And you claim that I'm the insensitive one?" She turned to Zach and gave him an encouraging nod. "Go ahead Zach. Tell the Agent what he wants to know."

Brennan cut off Booth's whine before it started by stomping on his foot, all the while looking expectantly at her assistant.

"When the victim's remains arrived, knowing that they had been kept in storage after being discovered, I had estimated time of death to be very close to the date that the body was discovered. Therefore, unless the victim was held prisoner for any length of time, I would say you're missing persons window stands at approximately 2 ½ to 3 weeks ago from today." Taking a deep breath, Zach turned to Brennan for confirmation.

"I concur. Excellent work, Zach." She then turned a rather pointed look to her partner, who had already whipped out his cell phone. "Isn't that right, Booth?"

Booth glanced up and moved the phone away from his mouth long enough to say, "Huh? Oh, yeah. Good job, kid." He then turned and started to speak as the person he'd been calling came on the line.

Brennan looked at her assistant to see him smiling like he'd won the biggest prize at the fair.

"Zach, why don't you go ahead and continue your work on the identification of the tool marks."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan. And…thank you."

"No thanks needed Zach."

She game him another small smile before indicating to Booth that she was going to her office, knowing that he would follow.

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Holographics Office – Medico-Legal Lab

Wednesday, September 6th – 2:13pm

Brennan and Booth stood on either side of the Angelator as Angela called up the image she had created. In front of them, the smiling face of an attractive young woman suddenly appeared. Her wide eyes, high cheekbones and long, flowing hair were the most noticeable features – assuming you ignored the image of her skull, which was visible just below the "surface" image of her face. As the woman's visage rotated slowly, Booth took a quick glance at one of the sheets of paper that he held in his hands.

"You're amazing, Angela."

Angela tossed a wicked grin his way. "Yeah. That's what they all tell me."

"Ange," was Brennan's token protest to her best friend's innuendo laden comment. But, she had to agree with Booth. The image was almost a perfect match.

Handing the page to Angela, Booth stated, "That's Monica Shawley, age 19. She was a student at Penn State's Altoona campus, which is also where she was from. She was reported missing three days prior to the discovery of her remains."

"So you mean that whoever did this held her captive for two days?" Angela looked slightly sickened at the thought.

Brennan was the one who responded, even though the question had been directed at Booth. "I doubt that she was alive the whole time, if for any of it. We've already determined that she was dead before the dismemberment. Like I told Booth, it would take a rather long amount of time to do what was done to her body. That's especially true since Zach has determined that the tools used weren't all of the electrical variety."

Angela, instead of looking reassured, looked almost ill. "That means that she was murdered and then…what? Kept in cold storage for a couple of days while this guy went to work with a hacksaw? That's sick!"

"Well, I don't know if it was actually a hacksaw, but – "

"Bones. I think we should just leave it for now. 'kay?"

Brennan had opened her mouth to respond when Hodgins ran into the room, the tails of his lab coat flapping behind him. He'd barely skidded to a stop before he said, "I think I know who the bad guy is," and promptly turned and ran back out the door.

The room's original three occupants exchanged looks before running after him.

By the time they caught up with him, Hodgins was sitting in front of one of the larger monitors in the lab, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Okay. I have to qualify this by saying that there are a couple of other people that might be the killer. But, I think I'm right."

He paused as an image appeared on the screen – a man's driver's license picture and brief bio.

"Ladies and gentleman, meet William Ian Whitman."

"Hodgins, couldja maybe skip the formal introduction and take us to the part explaining why you think this is the serial killer?"

"Patience is a virtue, Booth. Or, so I've been told, anyway." He ignored Booth's tight-lipped glare and continued, "Now, Mr. Whitman, upon first glance, appears to be your guy-next-door-can-I-borrow-a-cup-of-sugar type. Born and raised in Kansas, he had, by all accounts, an average life. He graduated middle of his high school class. Then, he had a couple of minor brushes with the law for such exciting infractions as speeding, failure to stop at a stop sign and , get this, illegally protesting the abuse of cows by the great state of Kansas."

Brennan gave him an odd look. "How do you illegally protest the abuse of cows?"

"Apparently by throwing milk on the Governor."

Angela nodded. "Oh, yeah. That makes much more sense."

"Well of course it does. I mean apparently he walked right up to the Governor with a bucket. And, the evidently not so smart Governor asked 'What's in the bucket?', so our guy just – "

Booth, still less than patient, interrupted before the explanation before it could go any further. "Hey! Guys, a little more focus on the killer part, please." He looked at each of their now contrite faces. "Thank you."

"Okay, so after the milk incident, Whitman went back to being average. He held down a number of jobs, but he never stayed with one vocation for more than a year at a time. He was 23 when he first applied at MSU. However, due to his supremely lackluster educational endeavors and test scores, he was denied admission. Over the next four years, he had the same result at each of the first five schools on our list."

Booth's, "Wow. That's gotta be disappointing," went ignored.

"He then went a different route. He signed on as an administrative assistant at the local sheriff's office and worked his way over to their fledgling crime scene unit. He spent five years there before moving on to an instructor position at the local community college." Hodgins spun around to face his audience. "Now, guess who's been trying to broaden his horizons by moving on to a bigger and better teaching facility."

"I'll bite," said Angela. "Mr. Whitman."

"You guessed it, baby. Mr. Whitman has been turned down by both University at Albany and the University of North Dakota. And, the most recent decline came from the land where JoePa rules."

"I don't know what that means."

"I'll explain it later, Bones." Booth started to pace the length of the platform. "This has to be our guy. It's too perfect a match not to be. But, I can't go after him without evidence. And, as we all know, physical evidence is severely lacking in this case."

"Actually, Agent Booth, I beg to differ."

Four people whirled in unison to face Zach.

"Explain."

"Well, Agent Booth, I just discovered a stray hair that doesn't belong to the victim."

"Zach, how did you discover a stray hair on recently cleaned bones?"

Booth shuddered and looked at his partner. "I still say there is something seriously wrong with that whole concept."

"Be quiet, Booth," Brennan said before turning to her assistant. "Well?"

"It didn't come from the bones. It was intertwined around a piece of netting that had gotten caught in the victim's hair."

"So, couldn't it be a hair from…say a local fisherman?"

"Not when you take into consideration that the remains appeared to have been transported in fishing nets. Or, maybe just one large one. It's hard to tell."

Booth and Brennan each took a step closer to Zach, who promptly backed up. However, it was Brennan that asked, "Zach, why am I just now hearing about this?"

Zach paled. "I didn't mention that before?"

"No, Zach. You didn't."

Zach gulped when he saw the look on Booth's face. "Oops?"

"Oops?"

Brennan stepped in Booth's path as he made a move to grab her assistant. _I refuse to train a new assistant just because Booth wants to strangle Zach. _She then took a deep breath before addressing the issue at hand.

"Ok, Zach. So, upon initial examination, the body appeared to have been transported in fishing nets. You have the documentation to prove that assertion?" At Zach's nod, she continued, "And, you also found a piece of netting in the victim's hair?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan. It was already frayed and quite small. Also, there were a number of other pieces sent for testing that came from the original examination of the remains while they were in Pennsylvania."

"But, it was a new piece of evidence that contains a stray hair that doesn't belong to the victim?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

"Ok. Has a DNA analysis been run, yet?"

Zach looked relieved that he might be getting off the platform unscathed. "I was just on my way to do that, Dr. Brennan."

An affronted Hodgins said, "Hey! That's my job."

"I don't really care whose job it is. I just want it done. And, whoever does it, make sure it's a rush order."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." Taking this first chance to escape, Zach skirted around the still glowering Booth and ran down the steps.

"Bones, I'm telling you. That kid's gonna be the death of me."

Brennan tilted her head. "I really don't think Zach has a mindset that's capable of murdering you, Booth. Granted, he has the knowledge, but – "

"Ya know what, Bones? Forget I said anything. Please."

Brennan shrugged. "If you say so. But, I could talk to him. Make sure he doesn't harbor homicidal tendencies that are directed at you. You know…if you're worried about him hurting you or something."

Angela and Hodgins chuckled as they watched that last comment register with Booth.

Booth stood up to his full height and leaned toward his partner, his outrage evident. "I am not 'worried' about Zach for any reason. Is that understood?"

"Gee, Booth. There's not reason to get all riled. I just want to make sure you feel safe working with my assistant."

"I'm feel perfectly safe around Zach. He's a skinny, little squint! Why would I ever be afraid of him of all people?"

Exasperated, Brennan threw her hands up. "But, you said – "

"Well forget what I said. That wasn't what I meant!" Booth turned and walked away from her, muttering, "Afraid of the kid. God the ideas that woman gets in her head."

Brennan looked at Hodgins and Angela. "What did I say?"

Hodgins was too busy laughing and clutching his stomach to respond. Angela wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and looked at her friend. "Oh, sweetie – " She couldn't finish the thought and broke out into laughter.

Brennan huffed and stomped in the direction of her office. She'd figure it out later on. Right now, she needed to review Zach's initial report, in detail. The idiosyncrasies of her team would just have to wait.

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Ok, people. Be kind and review. Reviews are a friendly hello in this world. :-)


	13. Threats to Zack & Bones

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Ok, so I've recently discovered how they actually spell Zack's name. So, I've made that correction. Otherwise, thanks again to my reviewers. You guys are the bestest, as my niece would say. :-)

A note to Diz: I just wanted to clarify something from the last chapter. When I said that Brennan "stomped" on Booth's foot, I didn't mean that she did something that would hurt him. Think of it more like a way to get his attention.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 13 

Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Wednesday, September 6th – 8:01pm

"But, why else would she ask me all of those questions?"

Jack Hodgins put his head in his hands in order to keep himself from wrapping them around his friend's neck, mentally repeating his new mantra. _I will not kill him. I will not kill him. I will not kill him. _

"After all, I don't think I've ever done or said anything that could be misconstrued as threatening where Agent Booth is concerned. I mean…he's bigger than me. And much, much scarier."

Hodgins wrapped his fingers around bunches of his own hair and pretended, just for a moment, that it was Zack Addy's neck. "Zack – "

"So, why would he say something that implies such strong mistrust? I thought we were starting to achieve a new level in the male bonding ritual. He was just starting to converse with me in a professional capacity. You know…without using Dr. Brennan as a go-between."

"Zack – "

"He even remembers my name, now."

"Zack! Shut up! Just shut up!"

Hodgins turned to his friend, hands raised to neck level, and took a step toward him. Zack, shocked at this action, stepped backward and stumbled over a chair. Grabbing the railing to steady himself, he continued moving away from his colleague.

'What? What did I do?"

Hodgins took another menacing step forward, his face flushed and curls standing out in frizzy tufts. "You're still talking. Why are you still talking? I've asked politely. I've demanded silence. I've even threatened to not give you rides to and from work. Yet, an hour and 45 minutes later, you're still talking." He took a deep breath, but his voice rose in volume as he continued, "How many times do I have to tell you, Brennan misunderstood what Booth said?"

"But – "

With an inarticulate growl, Hodgins lunged for Zack, intent upon shaking some sense into him. _It'll at least make me feel better!_

Zack scrambled back as far as the railing would allow. Over Hodgins' shoulder, he spotted Angela as she rounded the corner into the lab. He was about to yell for help when he saw that she had realized what was happening. He breathed a small sigh of relief as she quickly ran to the platform and jumped between the two men.

"Jack! What in the hell are you doing?" She put her arm out as Hodgins tried to sidestep her.

"Let me at him! I'm not going to hurt him much. Just enough to ensure that he can't speak for a few hours! That's all I'm after!"

Angela put both hands against Hodgins' chest and, using all her strength, pushed him back far enough for Zack to make his second escape of the day from the platform. When Hodgins turned to follow him, she wrapped her arms around him from behind to hold him in place.

"Jack! Stop…struggling!" When that didn't work, she squeezed tighter and pressed herself to his back. "Jack! Do you really want to go after Zack or would you rather stay here like this?"

He stopped trying to get away. Breathing heavily, he asked, "Are you going to stay put if I turn around?"

"No."

"Then I'd rather strangle Zack." He surged forward in an effort to pull away, and she was so surprised by his answer that he almost managed it.

"Oh, no you don't. You have to calm down, Jack. It's not worth it. Trust me on this one." She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Please."

He tensed for a moment before relaxing in her grip. "Fine. But, it would've made me feel better. He's been going on and on for the past two hours about Booth being afraid of him. It was driving me mad."

Angela waited a few moments to make sure he wasn't going to take off before letting go. When she did, he turned to face her, albeit after taking a step away first. As he was turned, she tried to hide her grin, but couldn't.

"'Was driving'? I think you were already breaking the land speed record by the time I got here." At his scowl, she started to laugh. "Although, I wish I'd had a camera. The look on Zack's face was priceless."

Thinking back, Hodgins started to chuckle. He then glanced up to the ceiling. "Ya know, I'm betting security got it all on tape. Maybe you could talk them into giving you a copy."

"Me? Why shouldn't you be the one to ask them?"

"Because, all you have to do is bat those beautiful eyes of yours, and they'll give you anything you want. I'd have to beg."

Angela couldn't quite figure out how to respond to that. So, she settled for, "Thanks, Jack," before walking away, smiling softly.

Jack watched her go. _You're welcome, Angela._ As she exited the lab, he sighed and tried to remember what he had been attempting to work on. Spying a printout on the printer, he had an "Oh yeah" moment. _The final DNA results. _He grabbed the paper from the printer and gave it a quick once over. _Yes! Male. _He snorted. _Not that we have anything to match it to. But, when we do…that bastard's ass is ours._

Turning toward Brennan's office, he was just in time to see a near collision between the scientist and her FBI agent as one tried to enter the doorway while the other was exiting. As they both turned and walked in his direction, Hodgins overheard the start of their conversation.

"Okay. The current whereabouts of one William Whitman are unknown. I had the local field office in Kansas City, Missouri, check up on him. He – "

"Missouri? I thought the guy lived in Kansas."

"He does, Bones. But, the FBI doesn't have a field office in Kansas. Kansas City handles it all. Now, as I was saying, he – "

"Well, why not? What's wrong with Kansas that it doesn't rate a field office?"

Hodgins chuckled as Booth took a deep and, he assumed, calming breath.

"Bones, do you think we could figure out the mysterious workings of FBI bureaucracy later? Right now, I'd like to tell you about our suspect."

She looked at him closely. "Ok. But, you might want to consider getting some sleep soon. You're testy."

Hodgins watched Booth's face darken and decided now might be a precipitous time to distract the dynamic duo. "Hey, Batman and Robin! Do you think you might stop bickering long enough to take a look at the DNA results?"

The pair turned equal scowls his direction. _Okay, that might not have been the best idea. _ "Or, later would be good, too. You know, if you'd rather argue first."

"Now's fine. What've you got?"

Hodgins turned to Booth. "The hair came from a male."

Booth looked from Brennan's triumphant grin to the matching expression on Hodgins' face. "Male? That's it?"

Hodgins' expression turned bitter. "Well in order for me to compare it to something, I need you to do your FBI thing, G-man. Or do want us scientists to chase down the suspects now, too?"

"Whoa! Down boy! It was just a question."

Brennan turned on her partner. "'Down boy?' He's not a dog, Booth. And, he's right. We don't have anything to compare the DNA sample to. But, at least we now know that it came from a male, which fits with our suspect."

Booth held up both hands in surrender. "God, people. It was just a question! And, if you'll let me tell you about our suspect, we can maybe move forward with our little murder investigation."

Hodgins looked at Brennan and shrugged. She shrugged in response, and both turned back to Booth.

"What was that whole shrugging thing? Secret squint communication?"

"Booth!"

With a quirk of his lips, Booth walked over to an empty examination table and spread out a few pieces of paper. "Okay. Okay. Like I was saying, the guys in the Kansas City office attempted to contact Whitman at his residence, but that was a no go. They checked with the school that he works for, but he's called off sick for the past three days. After doing a little more digging, they came up with contact information for his parents and neighbors. No one's seen him."

Brennan's eyes widened. "So, you think he's already going after his next target?"

"I don't know. But, I sure as hell hope not, because I don't know how to stop him."

"Well, are you sure he would've gotten home from PA, yet?"

Turning to look at Hodgins, Booth said, "Well, I'd imagine that even a guy that's this crazy coulda figured it out in the past couple of weeks."

Hodgins snorted. "Yeah, but he just finished his interviews at Penn State last week. When I said most recent decline, I really meant recent."

Realization dawning, Booth sucked in a quick breath. "You mean this guy was in State College at the same time we were? And, we just didn't know it?"

"Well, I have no way to know for sure, but I'd say…yeah. Most likely he was still around."

"Son of a bitch," Booth muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Brennan. "For all we know, he was at the table beside us during dinner."

Placing a hand on his arm, Brennan said, "Well, if he was, I hope it was on Sunday night instead of Saturday."

"Why's that?"

"Because, we weren't discussing the case on Sunday."

"Good point."

Hodgins, who had been listening, knew that Angela would never forgive him if he didn't ask. "What were you talking about instead?"

They both turned to him and asked, "Huh?"

He shifted uncomfortably. _Angela had better appreciate this. _"If you weren't talking about the case…well, what did you get to talk about?" When they only looked at him, he rambled on, "Because, you know, being stuck here in the lab…well, I often wonder what you two have to talk about out in the field. After all, I knew you couldn't always talk about work. But, I don't know how much you have in common, what with one of you being a scientist and one an FBI agent. So, I was really just kinda wondering. Out of pure curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Hodgins."

"Right." He pointed towards a computer on the other side of the platform. "I'll just go over there and stop being nosy."

Booth nodded. "Good thinking." He then turned back to his partner to ask a question. But, he was stopped by her considering expression. "What?"

"Nothing. I just didn't know Hodgins had a cat."

Booth took a deep breath. "He doesn't…I mean he might. I don't know. But, that doesn't really matter." Shaking his head, he continued, "What does matter is finding out where this Whitman guy is. Does Zach know what the next most likely school would be?"

"I'm sure he could look into it. But, he did already caution me that the field of study has gained such popularity in recent years that there have been quite a few new programs starting up across the country almost by the semester."

Pulling a poker chip from his pocket, Booth nodded before tossing it into the air. "Yeah. It's the new 'in' job to train for."

"So, what do we do in the meantime?"

Booth sighed before dropping into the closest chair. "Well, I can try to get a warrant allowing us access to his financials. Maybe see if he's using credit cards. That way, we'd know where the guy is. But, even given the nature of the case, it's a long shot. No matter what my gut's telling me, we just don't have any physical evidence that actually links this guy to the crimes."

"What happens if you can't get the warrant?"

Booth looked up at her, his shoulders tensing as he answered, "Then, we have no choice but to wait. See where he strikes next. See if he leaves any trace of himself behind. Who knows? We might get lucky, and he'll actually go home. Then, we can go question him – get a feel for him. Maybe find something that will give us what we need to stop him before someone else dies."

"That sounds like a lot of maybe's, Booth."

"I know, Bones. Trust me. I don't like it any more than you do." Standing up, he placed a hand on her arm. "But, let's not worry about it until I get an answer from the judge, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

He started to walk toward the stairs before turning back to face her. "I'm going to run to the office to get everything in order for the request. Do me a favor? Don't stay here all night. I'd like to know that you're going to go home and get some rest."

Since staying at the lab had been her plan, she tried an evasive response. "What makes you think I was planning on staying here tonight?"

"Bones, I think I know you a little better than that by now." He started down the stairs, calling over his shoulder, "I'll swing by here on my way home, just in case. But, be warned. If you're still here, I'm going to drag you home to take you to bed!"

Brennan, her mind reeling with the many images that statement caused, didn't hear Hodgins walk over to stand just behind her. When he spoke, she jumped.

"Wow. Angela is so gonna be pissed that she missed hearing that comment."

Groaning, Brennan turned to face him. "I don't suppose I can convince you not to share that with her?"

"And have her kill me when she does find out? I don't think so."

Hanging her head, Brennan turned away to go gather her laptop and bag. "I didn't think so."

As she made her way back to the lab's exit, Hodgins looked at her in surprise. "You're actually going home?"

She kept walking, but turned to smirk at him before answering. "Yes. There's no way I'm staying here so that you can tell Angela the tale of how Booth made good on his threat and threw me over his shoulder to carry me out of here, kicking and screaming. Go home, Hodgins. I'll see you in the morning."


	14. Weariness and Flirting

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Ok, so I really don't have a need for Cam at the moment. And, quite honestly, she wasn't part of the plan when I started this fic. So, for now, I don't think she's going to be involved. However, that may change. You never know where the story will take you sometimes. :-)

And, I know it's been practically forever since I've posted. I'm so sorry. I started a new job, and the new schedule is cutting into my "me" time. With that said, I hope you're all still out there. If you are, thank you so much for reading. :-)

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 14

Special Agent Seeley Booth's Office, FBI – Washington, D.C.

Thursday, September 7th – 8:45am

Special Agent Seeley Booth was having a rough morning. He had gotten little sleep since he'd spent most of the night trying to track down a judge that would sign a warrant allowing him to search the recent financial trail of William Whitman. When that didn't work, he had tried every other contact he could think of that might be able to help locate the man. Then, on just a couple hours of sleep, he'd been awoken by the ringing of his cell phone. His boss had apparently been less than pleased to receive reports of his overnight activities just as he'd walked into his office. _Of course_, Booth reminded himself, _I suppose I really shouldn't expect a cheerful morning when I'm trying to track down a psychotic killer. Damn it! If the judge would just sign the warrant, I might get the guy off the streets before there's another body for Bones to examine. But, noooo. "There's just not enough evidence, Agent Booth. Call me when you have something more." _With a grimace, he grabbed a ball from his desk and tossed it toward the wall to his left. As it bounced back, he caught it and threw it again with a quick flick of his wrist. Just as it sailed back into his hand, he heard a voice carry over from the office next door. "Booth, it's still too early for me to come over there and brain you with that damn ball of yours. Knock it off until I leave, why don'tcha?" With a smirk, Booth let the ball fly one more time before catching it and placing it back where it belonged. _Maybe Bones has something new._ Grabbing his keys and his jacket, he took off out the door.

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Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Thursday, September 7th – 9:14am

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat in her office, typing up her notes regarding the victim from the serial murder case. She had spent a good portion of the day before examining the bones and then the molds that Zack had created. She had wanted to make sure that she had everything she needed before she turned them all over to Angela for scanning into her database. She had then spent the rest of the day with Angela and Zack, attempting to determine the various tools and weapons used to dismember the remains, along with the order in which they were dismembered. Now, after typing in the last period, she sat back and closed her eyes. It had been a very long week, and it wasn't even over yet. _Of course, that's what happens when you work on the weekends. Maybe Angela's onto something when she tells me I need to take at least one day a week for myself._

"I think I need a vacation."

Without opening her eyes, Brennan said, "You'll be amazed to hear that I think I agree with you."

"You think I need a vacation, Bones? I know I've been tired, but do I really look so bad that even you noticed?"

Hearing the now familiar sound of her partner dropping into the chair across from her desk, Brennan opened her eyes and fixed him with a cold stare. "First, I do notice when you look tired. I just don't mention it. Angela told me that's considered rude. Second, I wasn't talking about you."

"You really notice?"

"Of course I do." Then, at his pleased grin, she continued, "Don't let it go to your head."

He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "To get back to the topic at hand, what do you mean you weren't talking about me? You don't take vacations. You just get away from work by working somewhere else."

"Not always!"

He eyed her in challenge. "Name one non-working vacation that you've been on in the last five years."

Her eyes lit up. "When I – "

"And, visiting your brother doesn't count."

Brennan leaned forward and folded her arms onto her desk. "How can you possibly say that visiting my brother doesn't count? I didn't work while I was there."

Sighing, Booth leaned forward, trying to figure out how to explain the difference. "Bones, ya know we've discussed this before. I'm talking about a real vacation. Sand. Sun. Ocean waves. Drinks with little umbrellas in them. A place where all you have to do is sit on a beach chair or…or… I don't know. Women seem to like walking the edge of the surf to look for seashells. Whatever. Anything that doesn't involve stress. And, getting to know your long-lost brother had to be stressful, even if it was enjoyable."

Brennan leaned back in her chair. After careful consideration, she said, "I don't think that I've ever really done that." She looked at her desk and then through the doorway to the lab. "Maybe I should give it a try someday."

"Maybe so." He looked at her. Something about her expression was different, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "You know, a year ago you wouldn't even consider the idea. What's changed your mind?"

Shrugging, Brennan picked up the dolphin belt buckle that now sat in a place of honor on her desk. "I don't know – a lot of things, really. Finding out about my parents. Spending time with Russ. Angela." She looked up. "You."

"Me?"

Before answering, Brennan nodded her head slightly and smirked. "Yes. I'm not sure if I would call it a positive influence, but you all seem to be having an effect on my thought processes regarding my life outside of work."

Flashing a full wattage grin, Booth was happy to see her smile widen in return. "Oh, I don't know, Bones. I think it's safe to say that rethinking your life goals on occasion is a positive step. And, I think that taking a relaxing vacation would be a nice start. I'm sure Angela would be more than happy to help you pack."

Eyes widening at the thought, Brennan groaned. "On second thought, maybe it's not such a great idea after all."

Laughing at his partner's horrified expression, Booth got up and stretched.

"Okay. How about you plan a vacation and tell Angela only after you've finished packing?"

With a rueful smile, Brennan agreed that was a better plan. Watching him pace back and forth for a moment, she realized how tense he was. _This case is really wearing on him. _"So, Booth. I'm assuming that you didn't get your warrant since I didn't receive a call last night."

Booth let out a frustrated sigh before answering. "No. And, I was up most of the night trying to get through to anyone I thought might be able to help. But, no dice." He stopped pacing long enough to give her an approving look. "I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find out from the overnight security guy that you went home right after I left."

"You actually stopped, came in and asked security?"

At his nod, she continued, "Didn't you see that my car was gone?"

This time, his glance was slightly guilty. "I did. But, knowing you, I thought you might have just moved it and come back in to work."

"Booth! I am not that bad."

He just gave her a look.

"I'm not!" Then, huffing at his indulgent smile, she stood up and walked to the door.

"Hey! Where ya going?"

"To see if Angela has had any luck with a little project I asked her to work on."

Following her out the door, Booth asked, "What kind of project?"

Brennan grinned over her shoulder and said, "You'll see."

They entered Angela's office to find her on the phone. Leaning back in her chair with her feet on the desk in front of her, Angela giggled and obviously flirted with whoever was on the other end of the line. Booth shot a questioning look at his partner, but Brennan just raised a finger as a signal to wait.

"Well, hon, I'm sorry to say this but I have to go…Yeah, work calls...Maybe the next time you're in town...uh huh...bye." Hanging up the phone, Angela made a face and said, "Yeah, right. Over my dead body." She swung her gaze up to Brennan. "You had better love me for this; because, it will now take me at least three weeks to get rid of that...oh, I hate to even refer to him as a man. He's a man wannabe."

"Ok, maybe I'm missing something; but, it sounded like you just agreed to go out with him the next time he's in town. How bad can he be?" Booth regretted his question when Angela turned to glare at him.

"I didn't agree. I very specifically said 'maybe'. And, I am going to make certain that I have plans if he ever comes anywhere near DC. I don't care if those plans involve donning a cheerleader outfit and yelling encouragement to Zack's beetles during a series of all-night bug races."

Booth winced and looked at Brennan. "Ouch. He must be bad."

Brennan nodded and looked to Angela. "Jean-Luc?"

Angela walked across her office and groaned a tortured "yes" as she threw herself onto her couch. Wincing, Brennan looked at Booth, "He's that bad."

Booth leaned in to whisper to his partner. "So, why was she flirting with him?"

"I can still hear you, ya know." Angela tucked her feet underneath her and gestured at them to have a seat. "To answer your question, I was flirting to try to get some information out of him. Unfortunately, if it works, he'll call me back, and I'll have to talk to him again." She paused for a dramatic sigh. "But, that's the price I have to pay for being me, I suppose."

Booth snorted at that, which caused Brennan to laugh softly. "See what I get while you're not here?"

"Can still hear you."

Rolling his eyes at Angela's singsong interruption, he looked at the women in the room. "So, who's going to explain what's going on?"

Angela flicked her hand toward her friend. "Go ahead, Bren. I need to rest for a minute. I've more calls to make."

Raising his brows in question, Booth turned to Brennan.

"Okay. But, before I tell you, you have to promise not to be…upset."

"Why am I not liking the sound of this?"

"It's nothing like that. I just knew that Angela had quite a few…contacts that might be able to…obtain information regarding whether or not a William Whitman is scheduled to fly, or has recently flown, from or to Pittsburgh or Kansas City."

With a blank expression, Booth looked between the two women. "So, what you're telling me is that you are casually inquiring with personal acquaintances of Angela's as to whether or not they have heard of Mr. Whitman and/or his travel arrangements."

Brennan nodded. "Sure, if you'd like to phrase it that way."

"I would." He turned his attention to Angela. "So, you're going to let me know if you hear anything? Because, when you do, I can call the local field office and have them stop by to ask a few casual questions."

Angela smiled. "That's the plan."

Pleased, Booth sat back. "Excellent idea, ladies. I'm impressed."

Angela stood up and walked to her desk. "You should be. Especially after you see this." She walked over to the Angelator and fired it up.

Booth and Brennan exchanged a look before joining her. Brennan asked, 'You don't have the simulation already, do you?"

"Sweetie, I pulled a you. I was here all night working and took a brief nap on the couch before starting my calls. And, as a complete side note, I don't know how you can use that shower as often as you do. Once was more than enough for me." She pulled up the image of the victim as she would have appeared before dismemberment. "Now, as Bren guessed, I'm nowhere near having this simulation completed. Everything is imaged and entered, so I can work with Zack once he gets here to try to determine the full sequence of events. However, I thought you'd want to see this."

Booth and Brennan both looked on intently as the image in front of them changed. Now, the victim was standing before an ambiguous image of a taller and larger figure. The victim's arms were held out in front of her, palms up as though to say "stop". As they watched, a slender knife appeared in the unknown person's left hand.

Angela turned to Booth. "Okay. Did Bren explain that we've run into issues and the simulation is basically being put together backwards?" Booth's wrinkled brow was answer enough. "Guess not. Ordinarily, the victims aren't in quite as many… Well, let's just say that the remains have more cut marks than I'm used to dealing with. So, the first thing you need to understand is that there are so many marks on the bones that Bren, Zack and I are having problems determining an exact timeline of events. In order to determine what actually happened, we're starting with what appear to be the marks from the dismemberment and working backward." Booth nodded his understanding. "Now, with that said, Zack had asked me to take a closer look at the bones of the victim's right hand. The marks were clearly from a very thin blade. Like a boning knife. I was able to determine at least this one short sequence from what appears to be early in the attack." She tapped the pad she was holding.

The images in the Angelator started to move. The victim's left hand shot out to grab the inside of the assailant's left forearm. Her right hand wrapped around the upper edge of his left hand and tried to pull his fingers away from the knife. The resultant cuts ran in a downward slice along the inside of the victim's right hand fingers and palm.

"I know it doesn't give you much, but it does prove that the killer is left-handed. No other combination worked to recreate the marks left behind on the bones. It also provides an approximate, but accurate, height/weight range for the assailant. According to the information we already have, Whitman fits the profile for those. I don't have confirmation of which is his dominant hand, though."

Booth nodded at her. "That's great Angela. It's one more piece of information we can use to determine whether or not Whitman is the right guy. Once we find him, that is."

"Well, I expect to have something before too long. I'll make sure you know as soon as I get the call."

"Great. And, I appreciate the extra effort on this."

Angela shrugged. "It's not a problem. Besides, Brennan's the one you should be thanking. It was her idea."

Booth grinned at the women. "How about I thank both of you, then?"

Brennan smiled slightly and shrugged.

Angela rolled her eyes. "On behalf of us both, you're welcome. And, as a reminder, chocolate makes a nice appreciation gift."

Chuckling at her forthrightness, Booth nodded. "Duly noted."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

American Airlines Flight 4164 – en route to Kansas City, MO

Thursday, September 7th – 10:36am

Turbulence marked the return trip to Kansas. He sat in his seat with his eyes closed, wishing the elderly woman beside him would mind her own business and shut the hell up. Wanting to fly First Class, but unable to afford the price, his only option had been to purchase the ticket for this cramped seat in coach. However, after this flight, he decided he might just drive the next time he needed to travel. The old woman reeked of lavender and talked incessantly. _Why in hell does she think I care about her grandkids or her aching knuckles?_ The kid behind him had been kicking him in the back since the beginning of the flight. It had made it impossible to get comfortable. And, now, the man on the other side of him wanted up to use the restroom. He pushed as far as he could into the seat cushions, but the other man's fat ass was still a little too close for comfort as it passed by. _It figures. What moron who has a window seat doesn't take a piss before they leave the airport? It's not even a long flight. _He glared at the man's back._ I'm surrounded by idiots. _With a curse that drew a cold look from the woman beside him, he pulled out his iPod, jammed in the ear buds and turned the music up as loud as it would go. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old lady flinch as the screaming guitars and pounding drums reached her ears. That caused him to smile for the first time since boarding the plane. It was only when the stewardess informed him that he would either need to lower the volume or surrender the device that he turned it down to a more tolerable level. _At least the old biddy's being quiet. _Then, just as he was finally getting comfortable, he realized the woman beside him was standing up to allow the bathroom guy back into the row. Cursing under his breath, he once again pushed back into his seat and looked to the window until the man moved past him. _All this because I can't afford first class on my shitty salary. _At that, his bitter thoughts turned to the universities and schools that he had been in contact with over the years. To all of the people who had rejected his applications – rejected him and his abilities. _Stupid bastards. I bet not one of those glorified desk jockeys could do what I've done. And they think I'm not "qualified" for their precious departments. They tell me I don't have enough "experience" in the field. I'll show them. I'll prove to everyone just how much I really know. After all, only the best can't be caught. _A grim smile appeared on his features._ And, I am one of the best. I've been at this for years, and no one even knows I exist. _If he had opened his eyes, he would have noticed that the elderly woman beside him moved as far away as possible as his grim smile grew wider.


	15. French Fries and Baggage Claim

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry that these updates are taking so long. And, I hope you're all still out there. Give a shout at the end, just to let me know. :) This is just a short chapter to help move the story along. Hopefully, I'll be able to get something more substantial written this week.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 15

Holographics – The Jeffersonian

Thursday, September 7th – 12:38pm

Dr. Jack Hodgins stood in the doorway to Angela's office, silently watching as she and Zack studied a readout on the monitor in front of them. He was amused to find that, in this unscientific setting, Zack had found another woman to defer to. It was obvious in the attentive, yet respectful, regard he was paying to Angela. Zack watched her eagerly as she explained some variable or other. And, just as he would with Brennan, he then repeated what she said to verify his understanding. _Amazing. He's the single most eager-to-please genius I've ever met._

Looking at his watch, Jack realized he couldn't just stand in the doorway if he was going to pull his friends away for lunch. They'd been working non-stop since the early hours of the morning, after all. He grimaced as he thought, _Even if Angela's morning centered around flirting with past flings and boyfriends._ With a sigh and shake of the head, he banished that unpleasant image and stepped into the room.

"Hey. I thought I'd see if you two wanted to break for lunch sometime soon."

Looking startled, Angela drew her attention from her work. "Is it seriously that time already?"

"Yep. Unless you'd like to wait to have lunch at dinnertime, that is, "Jack said, his quirky grin taking the edge off of the sarcasm.

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Hodgins." Angela turned to Zack. "You up for some lunch? We could try that diner down the street."

"No. You and Hodgins go. I brought lunch."

Jack's smile slipped. "Dude, please tell me you're not passing up good, old-fashioned diner food for another lunch of macaroni and cheese."

"Why not? I like macaroni and cheese. My mom used to make it all the time."

Knowing what was coming, Angela held up one hand to stop Hodgins from commenting and patted Zack's arm with the other. "It's okay, sweetie. You go eat your lunch. We'll be back before you know it. Then, we'll get back to work on the marks on the arms."

Nodding vigorously, Zack stepped away from the computer and headed out the door, leaving Hodgins shaking his head in confused wonder. His attention was drawn back to the room's other occupant when he heard Angela put down the pad and stylus she'd been holding.

He turned to in time for her to say, "Are you ready? I just need to grab my purse."

"Absolutely. And, lunch is on me today. As payment for me not being in jail for murder."

Angela laughed outright at his sheepish version of a thank you. "Deal. Let's go."

She grabbed her purse and walked to the door, only slightly surprised to feel Jack's hand lightly touch her arm as they exited her office. Once outside, they decided that the beautiful day called for a walk, so their steps turned in the direction of the diner.

"You know, according to Bren they have great fries."

Pulling his gaze away from the image of their merged shadows on the sidewalk, Hodgins muttered an intelligent, "Huh?"

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, Angela said, "The diner. Bren told me I would have to try the fries."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Booth said the same thing. The fries must be amazing to make those two unequivocally agree on something."

Angela gave an unladylike snort. "No kidding. Although, you have to admit that they're better now than they used to be."

Jack nodded.

"And, no matter what they say, there's something going on between those two."

"Angela." Jack drew her name out into a whine. "Don't get started. The last decorative stunt did not go over well."

She had the grace to blush lightly. "Alright, I admit that I may have gone a little overboard. But, I know what I saw. They just don't see it, yet."

He grinned. "Well, I say that they need to figure it out at their own pace, then. Don't push too hard. You know how Brennan gets when she feels like she's been pushed into a corner."

It was Angela's turn to nod in agreement.

"Besides, I think that Booth might have something up his sleeve. Although, only time will tell whether or not it's more than purely friendship related."

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared. "What do you know?"

Wincing as the woman who had been behind them ran into his arm, Jack grabbed Angela's sleeve and pulled to get her moving again. "It's just something I overheard him say on the phone. I'm not entirely sure what he's planning. But, if I do find out, you'll be the first to know."

Wish a sigh, Angela looped her arm through Jack's and bumped her hip to his. "Well, I guess that'll have to do."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kansas City International Airport (MCI) – Kansas City, MO

Thursday, September 7th – 2:16pm

The man frowned and glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. _Where the hell are our bags? Christ, we've been off the plane for half-a-fucking hour already! _He shifted his weight from one foot to the other for another minute before once again checking his watch and sighing. It was several more moments before he noticed that the kid from the plane – the one from the seat behind him – was making faces at him. With an angry sneer, the man turned to the boy's mother and said, "Don't you just hate it when parents don't actually parent their children in public?" The mother's gaze followed his to her son, just as the boy stuck out his tongue.

"Junior! You stop that this instant and apologize!" She placed her hands on her hips and gave the boy the evil eye until he relented and spit out an unconvincing "Sorry."

With a snort, the man shook his head and walked toward the other side of the conveyor belt to await his baggage.

Unbeknownst to him, there was another man standing not too far away that had followed the exchange with interest.

The second man waited until the subject of his observation had collected his bags and headed toward the parking deck before he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.


	16. The Phone Call

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I'm officially a horrible updater. However, RL's been awfully busy, so I promise I had good reason. I hope you're all still here reading! Are you still here reading? Hello? Anybody?

Reminder: There is a one hour time difference between Washington, D.C. and Kansas City, Missouri.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 16

Holographics – The Jeffersonian

Thursday, September 7th – 3:47pm

Angela Montenegro and Zack Addy stood, heads bent together, and looked between the Angelator and the pad that Angela held in her hand. Every few moments, one or the other would give a shake of the head and mutter before Angela would lightly tap a stylus to the pad to enter a new set of information. Then, the "glance at the Angelator, shake the head and mutter" would start all over again. When the dance beat of a cell phone ring cut through the silence, Angela only pointed the stylus toward her desk. Not taking his eyes from the scene playing out before him on the Angelator, Zack reached behind his back with his left hand and patted along the desk until his slender fingers located the ringing and vibrating phone. Steadying the pad with his right hand, he pulled his arm back around and passed the phone to its owner, who flipped it open without glancing at the caller ID. She placed it against her ear and tilted her head to rest it against her shoulder, keeping her hands free to make more adjustments to the data.

"H'lo," she said, distracted by Zack's request for a slightly different blade width.

"Angel!"

The voice was loud enough to make Zack pull away.

Wincing, Angela quickly turned down the volume and groaned. Handing the pad to a startled Zack, she took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of the couch. Forcing a smile, she responded through gritted teeth.

"Jean-Luc! How many times have I told you that I hate to be called Angel?"

Zack tilted his head to the side in confusion until he realized the implications of the name Jean-Luc. His eyebrows shot up as his mouth opened in a silent "Oh!"

Angela grimaced a confirmation and nodded. Rolling her eyes, she mouthed a steady stream of "Really?"'s, "Uh huh"'s and "Hhmmm"'s. After several minutes of barely listening and inspecting her cuticles, she finally pulled the phone away from her ear and eyed the trash can in contemplation.

Zack, taking that as his cue to step in, called her name softly. When she looked up, he pointed to the figures fighting on the Angelator.

Her lips drew into a straight line as she took the reminder to heart. _This isn't about me. It's about them. _"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry to interrupt your tale about judging the wet t-shirt contest at the…wherever it was. But, a colleague is waiting for me, so had you called for any other reason?" Her expression became serious before she suddenly jumped from the couch and scrambled to her desk. "Wait a second. Let me write this down." She pulled the top drawer open and tossed aside a half-eaten candy bar, a packet of tissues and a pen that didn't work before her fingers closed around a worn pencil. "Okay. Start that again…Uh huh…Okay…At a little kid? God…Okay…You're sure that's it? He just left?...Great. Thanks a million, Jean-Luc." She gave her phone a loud smooch and flipped it closed. Then, at Zack's gasp, she sagged. "Did I just make a kissy sound at my phone?"

Zack nodded.

She sighed and muttered a word that caused Zack's eyebrows to spring upward again. "Oh well. What's done is done. I'll deal with him when the time comes." She grabbed the paper, stood and strode to the door. "Are you coming?"

Zack rushed to turn off the simulation, put the pad and stylus onto Angela's desk and scurry after her.

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Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Thursday, September 7th – 4:06pm

Dr. Jack Hodgins was busy studying evidence from one of the earlier cases, but looked up as he heard the sound of skidding shoes. What he saw was an out of breath Angela barely staying upright with the help of the banister to the platform.

Giving her a lazy half-smile, he asked, "Did you miss me that much? It's only been – "

She cut him off. "Where's Bren?"

Hodgins recoiled in his chair. "Ouch. Talk about cold. She's in her office with Booth. Why? What's the – " He found himself talking to the banister as Angela took off. He turned his gaze to follow her progress when he heard sneakers squeaking against the floor.

"Where's Angela?"

Hodgins spun his chair around to look at Zack and pointed toward Brennan's office door. "She just ran that way. What the hell is going – "

Zack ignored the question, turning to follow Angela's path.

Hodgins stood up, arms crossed. "Okay, that was just rude." Then, seeing that the security guard at the base of the platform was trying to hide his smirk, Jack gave a huff and stomped down the stairs, intending to find out what was going on. He glared at the guard as he passed and said, "Hey, it's only funny because it didn't happen to you, pal."

As he approached Brennan's office, he could hear Angela speaking quickly. And, then he heard Booth's voice say, "Hold on, Angela. Start over and slow down this time."

Hodgins hit the doorway in time to hear Angela take in a calming breath before starting her story over from the beginning.

"Zack and I were in my office working up the final set of computations for the tool marks on the arm bones when – "

"Specifically, we were working on the marks on the left radius," Zack clarified.

Brennan nodded. However, Booth's gaze stayed on Angela, even though he acknowledged the interruption with a curt, "That's great. But, I'd rather hear about our suspect. Angela?"

Angela continued, "Okay, so we were working on the tool marks when Jean-Luc called. He went on and on about judging a wet t-shirt contest before he got to the good part."

Hodgins piped in with, "There's something better than judging a wet t-shirt contest?" He seemed pleased with his question until Booth's glare caught his attention. "Sorry."

"Right. So, I asked if he had anything else to tell me, because I had work to do. And – get this – our suspect just left Kansas City International Airport!"

Booth had his notepad and pen out. "I want the details, please, Angela."

Moving to sit on the couch, Angela nodded. "Well, he didn't have all that much to tell me. But, he noticed a man that fit the suspect's description at the baggage carousel before the flight's luggage came out. I gather that the guy had a slight altercation with a woman regarding her son's behavior. Jean-Luc couldn't hear what was said, but he thought that the guy looked like he would have strangled the kid then and there if no one else had been around. Anyway, the man Jean-Luc described fit Whitman perfectly. And, Jean-Luc said that while there wasn't anything that would draw your attention to him under normal circumstances, he, Jean-Luc, wouldn't want to run into him, Whitman, in a dark alley. There was definitely something about the guy that gave him the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, Jean-Luc waited until our guy claimed his luggage. He then verified which flight Whitman flew in on and that it was his name on the passenger list. And, he had just flown in from Pittsburgh, which is the connecting airport from State College. So, he made up something about seeing a guy drop a letter or something and spoke to the flight attendants. The one woman remembered the passenger since I guess she had to yell at him for playing his mp3 player too loudly." Angela shrugged. "Apparently Whitman has a thing for raging, metal music. Anyway, Jean-Luc then called me, and I ran here to tell you."

Booth head snapped up. "How long ago?"

"According to Jean-Luc, Whitman left maybe…25 to 30 minutes ago?"

Pulling out his cell phone, Booth punched a button. "This is Special Agent Seeley Booth in D.C. I need to speak to Josh McDonal, please…Just tell the old man who's on the line. He'll thank you for interrupting his staff meeting." Catching the look on his partner's face he asked, "What?"

"The 'old man'? And, you tell me that I need to work on my people skills?"

Booth moved the phone slightly away from his mouth. "Bones, the Old Man and I go way back. It's a nickname. A sign of respect." He quirked a smile. "Just like when I call you Bones."

With a snort, Brennan moved to stand closer to him, angling for a better chance of overhearing the other end of the conversation. "Booth, you don't call me Bones as a sign of respect."

He shrugged and upped the smile to a full-out grin. "Well, not anymore. Now it's more of a pet name. Wouldn't you rather be called Bones than something like... Oh, just for fun, let's say…Sugar?" Watching the mixed expressions that raced across his partner's face, the grin turned to a smirk. _Gotcha that time, didn't I?_

Brennan's expression settled on irritation and, eyes glinting, she leaned toward him to threaten, "You try that, Booth, and I'll – "

She stopped as Booth suddenly held up his hand and moved the phone back into position. "Thanks…Josh! How ya doin' Old Man?" He laughed. "Funny, that line sounds awfully familiar." He winked at Brennan, who had gestured enthusiastically when she overheard the older man's response of "Don't call me Old Man!"

"Hey, listen, Josh. I need to ask a favor…No. Not that type of favor. I have matured a bit over the years. This is business." He nodded at something the other man said. "Exactly. I just got word that Whitman is back in Kansas. So, I was hoping you could send a couple of your best agents out to…talk to him. Maybe see if they could shake something out of him." Booth shook his head in the negative. "No. I don't have any proof. Not yet, so it'll have to be basic questioning. There is one piece of DNA evidence from the last scene; but, of course, we don't have anything to compare the sample to, so if your guys should happen across a legal sample..." He went still for a moment, and Brennan leaned her head in closer to the phone. Both figures were tense as they listened to the far away Agent's response. Then, they simultaneously relaxed. Brennan pulled back as Booth said, "That'd be great. Thanks, Old Man. I owe you one." He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. If this works, I might even agree to that." With a wide grin, he said his goodbyes and snapped his phone shut.

Angela, unable to stand it any longer, blurted out, "So, they are going to see the guy, right?"

Booth and Brennan exchanged a look before Booth turned his attention to the Squints. "Yeah." He took three steps and sank to the opposite end of the couch. "Josh said he was going to send his best team out to interview him. We don't want to let him know that we're onto him and spook him into hiding, so they're going to come up with some reason to question him about his forensics knowledge. And, if they happen to be able to pick up a DNA sample while they're there..." He shrugged. "It's a start."

Zack raised his hand and turned to fully face Booth. "So, what do we do now?"

Booth opened his mouth to answer, but it was Brennan's voice that filled the silence.

"We do our jobs. Once we are able to catch the killer, whoever it might be, we need the evidence to convict him of as many murders as we can scientifically link him to." She looked them each in the eye. "So, I want each of you to spend your time going over every shred of evidence from each of the crime scenes. If it hasn't been shipped here, yet, then we should have it in the next day or two. I want to know every single detail of every piece of evidence. As you know, our equipment is more advanced than that in most labs. So, let's use it to see if anything has been missed during prior examinations. Do not use the existing reports as a basis of study. Examine each piece of evidence as though it has never been examined before and draw your own conclusions." All of her team members nodded and started toward the door. "Oh. One more thing. Don't assume the killer is Whitman. While we might be reasonably sure that he fits as the man we're looking for, we don't have any hard evidence. So, remember to keep an open mind and don't let prior assumptions cloud your judgment."

She sat down beside Booth as the rest of the team exited the office. When she turned to face him, Brennan was surprised to see him smiling.

"What?"

"Nothing. That whole pep talk thing was just a little…new for you. I'm impressed."

Nodding, she leaned back and pulled one leg up underneath her. "Oh. Angela told me to take a more directive role. Do you think it worked?"

Booth turned to look out into the lab. He saw Jack bound up to his vacated computer station on the platform as Zack and Angela hurried back to her office. "Yeah. I think it worked just fine." Turning his attention back to the woman in front of him, he smiled. "So, you have reports and evidence to examine?" At her nod, he stood. "In that case, I'm going to go over all of the case files one more time. Mind if I borrow your office?"

"Not at all. If you need a break, you'll know where to find me." She stood and walked to the door. Before leaving, she paused and turned back to face her partner. "Booth, once you go over the files, what are you going to do?" She watched as his chest heaved in a sigh.

"I'm going to do the only thing I can do in situations like this. I'm going to wait for the agents in Kansas City to report back their findings. I'm going to wait for more information to come in from the older cases. And, I'm going to wait for you and the team to finish reviewing the evidence." Then, as he walked to her desk to gather the files, he said more quietly, "But, more importantly, I'm going to wait until this bastard strikes again; because, I don't think he's gonna stop until we're able to stop him."

Brennan looked at him worriedly. "I hate that part of the waiting."

Booth turned sad eyes to meet hers. "Yeah. Me, too."


	17. Checking His Vibe

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: ** Okay, so I'm officially a horrible updater. However, RL's been awfully busy, so I promise I had good reason. I hope you're all still here reading! Are you still here reading? Hello? Anybody?

**Author's Note #2: ** Since it _has_ been so long since the last update, you may want to go skim the last chapter again to get a feel for what's going on.

Reminder: There is a one hour time difference between Washington, D.C. and Kansas City, Missouri.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 17

Outside the Home of William Whitman – Ottawa, KS

Thursday, September 7th – 6:49pm

"So when's this guy supposed to get here? We've been waiting for hours," groused Agent Herbie Cartwright. Pushing up the sleeve of his gray suit jacket, he looked at his watch. "Damn. I was supposed to meet the wife and kids 10 minutes ago for dinner."

Giving him a sidelong look, his partner of eight years, Ryan Preston, replied, "Now you _know_ your kids are at Chuck E. Cheese playing Skee-Ball and not missing you in the slightest. Besides, I _heard_ you call Di and tell her you might not make it." Then, tapping the steering wheel with well-manicured fingers, he moved his gaze back to the house across the street and continued, "But, I sure wish he would show. I'd rather get this over with."

"You got a feeling?"

With a short nod, Preston stared out the car window for a long moment before responding, "Yeah. I have a feeling."

"Well, you have the best gut in the business when it comes to sniffing out perps." Cartwright pulled out his gun and checked it over, even knowing he would find it loaded and in working order. Sliding it back into its holster, he nodded. "Ya know if this bastard's done everything those D.C. squints think he's done, it's worth a missed dinner if it means nailing his ass to the wall."

"Agreed. But, remember – we're not here to arrest the guy. We're supposed to feel him out and pretend to be asking for input on an old case he worked on. See what his place is like. 'Check his vibe.'" Preston snorted. "You haveta love some of the Old Man's instructions. I mean, what does he think we'll find? This guy is supposed to be smart; he's not going to leave evidence sitting out on the coffee table." He shook his head. "I especially liked, 'If possible, collect a legal DNA sample.' What are we supposed to do? Strike a deal and seal it with a spit handshake?"

Cartwright chuckled ruefully and, not for the first time that day, ran a hand through his short, curly hair. "Yeah, just like when we were kids. I hope to hell he buys the reason for our being here. That screwy custody fight/kidnapping case was the only one that began to tap into federal jurisdiction. Hell, better yet, I hope he hasn't been keeping up on his old cases. The father isn't even attempting to file an appeal of the guilty verdict!"

Preston nodded and watched as car after car drove past the intersection at the end of the street. "I know. But, it's the only avenue available. We'll just have to take our chances and give it our best shot. That's what we're good at, or the Old Man wouldn't have picked us for this run." He watched hopefully as another car slowed at the intersection, but it didn't make the turn. With a sigh, he continued, "That's if the guy ever shows up."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seeing his driveway up ahead, the man relaxed his crushing grip on the steering wheel. _Finally._ He'd had this feeling ever since he'd left the airport – like someone was watching his every move. So, he'd used an indirect route out of Missouri, doubling back a time or two. He pulled into a church parking lot when it seemed like a black SUV was trying to ride up the ass end of his car. _Shit, I was just driving myself crazy. I used every trick that I know of to spot a tail and…nothing._ So, after finally hitting the main highway toward home, he'd convinced himself that he was being ridiculous and stopped at a diner along the way, hoping to overhear any local news – ok, more like gossip – that he might've missed while he was out of town. The old diner had been there for as long as he could remember. The place was a throwback to the age of poodle skirts and Thunderbirds; but, more importantly, it was a favorite of the local truckers…and they had one of the best information networks around. Again…nothing. So, chalking it up to frazzled nerves from the plane ride home, he had taken his time over a good, old-fashioned meal of mashed potatoes and meatloaf. He had a few cups of coffee, chatted up the pretty waitress and joked with the cop that came in for a caffeine fix to get him through the end of a double shift. He'd felt completely relaxed. But, as soon as he hit the road again, that feeling came back; and, it was driving him crazy. He viciously chomped down on the now soggy toothpick he'd grabbed as he left the diner and waited for a kid on a bicycle to mosey on across the opening to his driveway.

_There's nothing to be worried about. I didn't leave anything behind. It's all in my head, and if I let my nerves get the better of me I'll start to make mistakes. Then I will get caught. Handling the nerves is part of the game. _

He repeated this to himself as he pulled up to his garage. Getting out, he carefully locked the door and walked to the mailbox, noting that the dust and grime blown onto it from the road hadn't been disturbed. No one had checked his mail. _See? You're being paranoid. No one is after you. _ Looking down the street, he wondered idly when the Barton's had gotten a new car before pulling out the large stack of envelopes and flipping through them. _Bill. Bill. Why the hell would I want a coupon for diapers? Bill. _He felt the toothpick splinter and spat it out into the street as he turned back to his driveway. Grabbing his suitcase from the trunk, he made his way to the door, looking forward to watching the movie that had finally arrived. It was only when he turned the doorknob that he noticed the reflection in the window to his right. Two men were walking toward his house from across the street. One was the "linebacker" type – tall and stout with a military-style haircut. The other was shorter and leaner, but obviously no slouch in the gym department. Both wore tailored suits despite the rather warm day._ Feds_. His breathing hitched. _What're they doing here? _As the men neared the sidewalk, one paused, placed a folded handkerchief on the ground and kneeled down on one knee to tie the loose shoestrings of one polished shoe. As he stood up, the man picked up and neatly folded the now dirty fabric before tucking it into the inside jacket pocket from which it'd come. Then, both men resumed their walk to the driveway.

As they neared, Whitman schooled his features into his "professionally polite" expression and waited calmly; but internally he was reeling with uncertainty. _Did I leave something behind? Did they find me out? Shit!_ His heart started to hammer in his chest; and as the men approached, he watched them cautiously, trying to decide if he should face them outside, hurry into the house or run. It wasn't until they'd reached the edge of the walkway that he realized how perfectly relaxed they appeared to be. The short one even raised his hand in a wave and shouted hello. _What the hell? _His pulse racing, he turned to fully face them as they climbed the few stairs to the small porch, waiting for one of them to speak. He didn't have to wait long since the taller man started to speak before he hit the top stair.

"Mr. Whitman?"

With what he hoped was a polite smile, he looked up at the tall man appraisingly. "Yes. I'm sorry, but you are…?"

The shorter man gave a friendly chuckle, stuck out a hand to shake and used his other hand to gesture at his partner, "Don't mind Mr. Manners here. He always forgets the social niceties. I'm Special Agent Herbert Cartwright with the FBI. This is my partner, Special Agent Ryan Preston. We're sorry to disturb you, sir, especially since you're just returning from a trip. But, we're doing some follow-up on an old case that you worked on back when you were with the Sheriff's Department and were hoping you could maybe help us out by answering just a few questions regarding some of the evidence?"

Whitman looked at Cartwright's hand for a moment before shaking it with his own. _An old case?_ His pulse started to slow. "Sure. Will this take long? I'd invite you in, but I haven't been home for awhile and the dust has probably overrun the place."

Preston spoke up with, "Oh, don't worry about it. A little dust never hurt no one." He then gave a chagrined smile, leaned in a little closer and dropped his voice. "And, well, we got word earlier that you should be home today, so we've been waiting for quite awhile. I was really hoping you would allow me to use your restroom?"

"Oh. Sure. Come on in then." Forcing a smile, Whitman turned back to the front door, allowing a frown to flit across his features. He pushed it open and, smile back in place, turned to wave them inside. "The bathroom's down the hallway, second door on the left." He followed them inside and closed the door. "Would you like anything to drink? I should have some pop or bottled water in the fridge."

Preston made his way toward the bathroom, calling "No thank you" over his shoulder. Cartwright, shaking his head no, said, "We really shouldn't be here long, and we're going to go grab something to eat before we drive back to Kansas City. Is there somewhere comfortable for us to sit down and talk?"

"Of course, right through that doorway." Pointing down the hall, Whitman lifted his suitcase slightly and said, "I'm just going to put this in the bedroom. I'll be right back. Please, make yourself at home." He walked away, glancing back only once.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As he watched the suspect round a corner at the end of the hall, Cartwright allowed his friendly smile to drop. _Yeah, right. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies._ Turning to walk in the direction Whitman had indicated, Cartwright took the time to peruse the photographs on the wall. _There seem to be a helluva lot of them here given that there aren't supposed to be any women living in the house._ Upon closer inspection, he realized that all of the pictures were of Whitman with, presumably, his mother and father. However, there wasn't a single photograph that contained a smile. Frowning, he moved quickly to look at each picture again. _No one's touching. Not even in the baby pictures._ The thud of a closing door interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly made his way to the room where he was supposed to be waiting, still mulling over what type of family life Whitman must have had growing up. _Not that that's an excuse. _With a predatory smile, he patted his jacket over the inside pocket. _Now, we just need to ask a few questions to make this look good and get the hell out of here. _He glanced back at the pictures lining the walls of the other room. _I think it's time to go home and hug my wife and kids._

_XXXXXXXXXX_

Did I mention up above that I was taking a chance with this chapter since it doesn't have any of BONES' regular characters?... I didn't?... Oops. :-) But, never fear. I promise they'll be back at the very beginning of the next chapter. Quite honestly, I want to get this story to the ending, and writing in B/B going to Kansas, themselves, would have extended it instead. Anyway...you know what to do now. Reviews are love, people!


	18. You Have One Message

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **Hhmmm…. Maybe being the world's slowest updater isn't a good thing. I seem to be losing reviewers left and right. So, hopefully this chapter will get some of your back. Maybe? Pretty please? (sniffles)

**Author's Note 2:** I will be the first to admit that I have no idea how long it actually takes to run a DNA test. However, I'm under the impression that the usual long wait is due to a backup of items that need to be tested. So, for the purposes of this fic, I'm assuming that: a) the Jeffersonian has the equipment at their disposal to use as they see fit and b) the test itself runs relatively quickly. If I'm wrong, I sincerely apologize.

Reminder: There is a one hour time difference between Washington, D.C. and Kansas City, Missouri.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 18

Royal Diner – Washington, D.C.

Thursday, September 7th – 9:15pm

Dr. Temperance Brennan slowly munched on a pilfered french fry and watched her partner's face as he spoke to his old friend from the FBI office in Kansas City. As they talked, his features relaxed; his tense frown faded. _It must be good news._

"So, it'll be here first thing tomorrow? Thanks, Old Man. I owe you one." Special Agent Seeley Booth snapped his phone shut and turned a beaming face to his partner as he tucked his phone into his pocket. "They got it."

Brennan's brows rose. "The DNA sample? How?"

"Pure luck. The guy apparently spit a toothpick out into the middle of the street before he went into the house. Can you believe it?" Booth's grin threatened to split his face. "We finally caught a break."

Smiling back, Brennan asked, "So that's what's going to be here tomorrow?"

"Yep. First thing."

"I'll make sure Jack's there early, then." She eyed his plate and reached…

"Good. Hey!" He slapped her hand. "Order your own!"

Brennan popped a crispy fry into her mouth with a satisfied grin.

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Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Friday, September 8th – 11:16am

Dr. Jack Hodgins' attention was concentrated on the information scrolling by on his computer monitor, but his eyelids didn't seem quite so interested. He'd gotten to work early after receiving a call from Brennan at the butt crack of dawn telling him to get to the lab asap. Then when he arrived, he found only a note telling him to: a) wait for a package from Kansas City and b) immediately run DNA testing upon the contents of the package. When the delivery person arrived – two hours later– he'd rushed to process the sample. Now, still waiting for the machine to compile its results, he decided that a third cup of coffee was in order. He pulled the test page from earlier off of the printer so he could throw it into the recycling bin, spun his chair around and looked up…directly into four sets of expectant eyes. Jumping in surprise, his chair skidded back into the desk as he clutched his chest. With a gulp, he yelped, "Don't do that!"

The four people that were hovering around his work station didn't move or even apologize. Instead they edged closer as Booth reached out to grab the paper from his hand.

"Is that it?"

Snatching his hand out of Booth's reach, Hodgins spun back to his computer. "It's just a test page, people. The rest will print in just a few - "A beep cut him off. He understood the draw of that printed sheet of paper, so he didn't tell them to back off. Instead, he held up his arms to hold off the sudden press of bodies and, sending up a silent plea for patience, said, "I'll put the results up on the monitor, so keep the stampeding to a minimum, please." He felt the pressure against his outstretched arms ease and lowered them so that he could type in the commands to bring the results up on the large screen in front of him.

"Okay. This is the result of the test from the toothpick." The standard sequencing image appeared on the top half of the screen. "And, this- " another set of results appeared on the lower half "– is the result from the sample from the net." He tapped a few keys and the two results merged. "Yes! I knew it!"

"So, it's – " Booth started.

Brennan finished the sentence as she turned eagerly to her partner, "- a perfect match. This is enough to go arrest him, right?"

Jack twirled around and interrupted smugly, "You bet your sweet ass it is." When four sets of eyes widened, he stammered, "Uh…I didn't actually mean to say that your ass is sweet, Dr. Brennan. Not that it's not sweet. I mean, you have a _great_ ass." Hodgins gestured toward said part of her anatomy until he caught Booth's scowl. Folding both hands in his lap, he continued, "Not that I look at it or anything. I've tried to not really pay that much attention to that area of your body…or _any_ area of your body, really, since you're my colleague and all…here at work. I wasn't actually intending to even refer to your ass, per se. It's just an expression." He tried to move his chair back slowly when Brennan's expression didn't change. "I mean…"

Angela placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jack." His head swiveled in her direction, but his eyes stayed on his boss' face. "Stop talking." He nodded.

Booth, torn between curiosity at Brennan's reaction and irritation at Hodgins practically grabbing her backside, waited to see what would happen. As the seconds ticked away, he shifted a little closer to his partner. _Just in case._

In the meantime, Brennan observed her fellow scientist with a detached expression before tilting her head and taking a step back. "Riiight. Okay, then. What's next?"

"Huh," was the best Booth could come up with. He had been watching his partner, expecting to see an inevitable explosion. Now, looking her in the eye, he realized there wasn't going to be one and had to switch gears. "Oh, right. Next. Well, _next_ I guess we get the bad guy."

Her eyes lit up as she practically bounced on her toes. "So we're going to Kansas to arrest him?"

Scoffing, Booth whipped out his cell. "Nah. I'll just call the Old Man. He can get a warrant to search Whitman's place while Preston and Cartwright pick up our suspect for some intense _questioning_." He smiled, not noticing Brennan's frown. "Ah, the wonders of being in charge." He punched a few buttons and placed the phone to his ear.

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Community College – Ottawa, KS

Friday, September 8th – 2:39pm

William Whitman was in the middle of a lecture on advanced fingerprinting collection and preservation techniques when the vibration of the cell phone at his hip caused him to pause. Wondering who would be calling him at this time of day, he reached down and pressed the button to quiet the alert, figuring that he would deal with whoever it was after class. But, as usual, several students stayed after to ask questions, and that took an extra hour from his day. By then, he had a staff meeting to attend and then office hours for the rest of the afternoon, so it was during the walk to his car that he finally remembered the unexpected call. Shuffling his extra books and papers from his left arm to his right, he reached down and snagged his cell from the holster on his belt. Flipping it open, he pressed the correct button to view his missed calls and then frowned at the name that appeared on the screen. _Wonder what Roger wanted so badly that'd he call from the courthouse. They're normally in session at that time, aren't they? _He hit the button to get his voicemail. _It's a good thing I didn't answer though. He never shuts up.. Yes. Yes. I know that I have one message. Damn phone company. Is there any reason why they think I don't know that I only have one message if I just have one missed – _

His friend's frantic voice stopped him cold.

"Dude, where the hell are you? No. Better yet, what in _hell_ have you gotten yourself into? The fucking _FBI _were just here! They got Judge Thomas to sign a search warrant for your _house!_ That slimy bastard never did like you and was only too happy to put his pen to paper once he heard your name. When I tried to ask what was going on, he had a bailiff freaking escort me from chambers! Man, you need to call me. I'll do whatever I can to help. I'm sure it's just some huge misunderstanding, right? I mean, it _has _to be a misunderstanding… "

The voice faded but didn't stop talking as Whitman's hand slowly lowered to his side. He felt completely numb. For the first time, he didn't know what to do. That message had been left hours ago. _The FBI is in my house – going through my things._ Hours. They had had plenty of time to start a thorough search. Hell, they may have even made it to –

A car honked from behind him, startling him into almost dropping his cell. Quick reflexes saved the phone, but some of his books and papers scattered across the center aisle of the parking lot. He gathered them out of reflex, not even thinking beyond that message. _In my house._ He had no idea of what he should do. He couldn't go home, that much was obvious. He needed to get out of town… _They'll be looking for my car. _He debated calling Roger and asking to borrow his, but decided that would take too long. It was then that he reached his car and gazed across the street – and found a familiar face sneering back. _It's him._

A thought lanced through his brain, and it only took a moment's consideration before he knew what he had to do. _Yeah, that's it. _He tossed his work into the car and, with grim determination, walked across the street. _If they want me, they'll have to work for it._

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I'm sorry. I know it's been an awfully long wait for such a short chapter, but I wanted to get _something _posted so you wouldn't think that I'd completely forgotten about this story. So, on that note…let me know what you think. :-)


	19. Photos and Verbal Reports

**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

**Author's Note: **I'm still sorry for the updating delays. Unfortunately, if I want to make any money, it can't be helped.

**Author's Note 2: **For the parts of the story that are set in Kansas, I'm now completely making up the location/people/details. I've never been there, so if anything seems odd… Well…Try to suspend your disbelief, okay:-)

Reminder: There is a one hour time difference between Washington, D.C. and Kansas City, Missouri/Ottawa, KS.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESS

Chapter 19

Community College – Ottawa, KS

Friday, September 8th – 6:16pm

Whitman glanced in the rearview mirror of his "borrowed" SUV, smiling at the sight of his latest conquest. _It was easier than I dared imagine. Who knew he'd be such a sucker?_ With a delighted chuckle, he reached out and turned up the radio.

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Special Agent Seeley Booth's Office, FBI – Washington, D.C.

Friday, September 8th – 7:03pm

Special Agent Seeley Booth stared intently at the photos laid out before him. With deliberate care he moved them around to change the order, trying to piece together an idea of what had happened. He then glanced at the unnaturally silent phone on his desk before glancing at the clock. _Great. That time I lasted a whole four minutes before looking back at the phone. _Cursing his inability to concentrate, he sighed and pushed his chair back from his desk. _Where in hell is the Old Man? I should've heard something hours ago. _With a grumble of frustration he grabbed his cell from his pocket just to make sure he hadn't missed a call. He hadn't. So, he tossed it onto the desk and, trying to stem an impending feeling of uselessness, turned his attention back to the photographs; but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a single new lead in the images. He desperately wished that Bones could examine the bodies, but the families of the victims had already been through enough. He didn't want to exhume any of the remains unless it became absolutely necessary. Which brought him back to the photographs. There had to be something in the "new" evidence that would allow him to physically connect the suspect to more than just the most recent killing. If only he could find it…

"Damn it!" He slammed his fist down on his desk. _I'm getting nowhere!_ He started to shove the photos into their envelopes, thinking he'd take a break and head to the Jeffersonian. _Maybe the Squints have come up with something._

"Booth?"

His head snapped up to see his partner standing in the doorway, obviously trying to decide whether or not to interrupt. With a deep sigh he gestured her in and then ran his hand over his hair.

"Come on in, Bones. I could use the distraction."

Dr. Temperance Brennan examined the hunched set of his shoulders and then followed his gaze to the photographs, her expression turning to one of understanding. She sat down in one of the chairs across from him and leaned closer to grab one of the images. "I take it you haven't found anything?"

With a wry grimace, Booth let his head fall back against the back of his seat and contemplated the ceiling panels. "Nope."

"Oh," was the only response she could come up with as she watched him close his eyes. _He seemed so confident this morning… _"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry comes to mind, although it doesn't really seem appropriate since I didn't do anything I would need to apologize for… But, I'll say it anyway if it'll make you feel better?"

Her voice trailed off uncertainly, causing Booth to chuckle despite his frustration. Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze from the ceiling to his partner and allowed her concern to wash over him. Surprisingly, he found that that was all he really needed. With a slight smile, he finally responded, "It's okay. Although I appreciate the thought, having you here is help enough." At her questioning look, he continued. "I've kinda gotten used to having you around to bounce ideas off of," he paused to smirk, "even if you still don't really understand the concept behind positing a scenario." At her slightly hurt expression, he rushed on, "It doesn't really matter though since together we always figure it out in the end. I just have my way of doing things, and you have yours. But, somehow we always manage to meet up in the middle."

That brought a rather thoughtful expression to her face. "Yes, we do." Brennan sat up straight and nodded toward his desk. "So what do you have? Are those all of the 'lost' evidence photos?"

Booth's expression soured. "Not exactly _all_ of them. But, it's a start. These are from 2003 – the third victim." He picked up a photo and tossed it aside. "I just don't see anything helpful. They're mostly autopsy photos, but even the photos from the scene don't give me anything. Just the body and surrounding woodland floor." Leaning away from his desk, Booth let his head fall against the back of the chair with a soft thump. "I don't even know why I haven't heard from the boys in Kansas. They should have had at least an initial report in by now. But, every time I call the Old Man it goes directly to voicemail."

Brennan watched as he again scrubbed a hand through his hair and stared up at nothing. She could practically see the evidence twisting and turning around in his mind, but not falling into any discernable pattern. _He looks so…_

"Booth, are these the only copies of the photos?"

He answered without moving his gaze from the ceiling tiles. "Nah. The guys down in enhancement have an original set. But I needed something tangible to work on, so…" He shrugged.

Brennan stood and started to gather the photos and corresponding files. "Well, then let's take them back to the lab and see what Angela can do with them. Maybe she'll see something we're missing."

"I'm not sure, Bones. The Old Man should – "

"Know how to reach you on your cell phone," Brennan interrupted. "Come on. Let's go use our people and see exactly what evidence we can glean from all of this." She awkwardly picked up the haphazard stack of files and looked at him. "Well?"

Booth took in the stubborn glint in her eyes, realizing that he really didn't have much choice in the matter. "Okay." He grabbed his cell phone and jacket and hurried around the desk to open the door for his partner.

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Holographics Office – Medico-Legal Lab

Friday, September 8th – 8:14pm

Angela's voice dripped with skepticism as she stared down at the stack of photographs. "So, you want me to look for something that doesn't quite 'belong' in photos that are almost 5 years old and from a crime scene that no longer exists? And that 'something' may be as simple as the edge of a hidden slip of paper that is only a shade or two different in color from the surrounding plants, people and dirt?"

Booth nodded while Brennan matter-of-factly said, "Yeah."

Looking from one to the other Angela shook her head. "I appreciate your confidence in my unarguable talents. I really do. However, I feel the need to caution you… This is a long shot." When their expectant expressions remained unchanged, she shrugged. "Right. Okay, let me run a few scans and see what I can come up with." She tilted her head in thought as she turned to her computer and started to scan the photos in one by one. "Maybe if I run a search for linear planes on the objects surrounding the body. Look for lines that appear to be too straight to have been formed in nature…"

Booth and Brennan shared a glance in silent triumph before quietly exiting the room. Angela was always up for a challenge, and they knew she wouldn't stop searching until she'd exhausted all of her options.

An hour later, they sat on the couch in Brennan's office, still waiting for Angela to find something and once again reviewing the details of the most recent scene. In that time they had also come to a mutual understanding – Brennan wouldn't say anything when she caught Booth looking at his cell phone every few minutes to check for missed calls, if Booth wouldn't give Brennan that _look_ when he caught her glancing out into the lab to see if Angela had come out of Holographics. But, as the time ticked away and neither found anything new in the reports, their conversation took a less business-like turn.

"I did _not_ encourage her!"

"Maybe not intentionally, but you most certainly did…Oh, what did Angela call it?" Brennan's eyes lit up as she remembered. "Give her a once-over! That's it."

Booth's eyebrows scrunched together. "No, I did– "

"Yes, you did," Brennan said, with a poke in the arm with each word for added emphasis. "As I recall, you seemed especially interested in her legs."

Shrugging, Booth replied, "Well, she had nice legs." He continued quickly, "But, that doesn't mean I was encouraging her. If anyone antagonized her, it was you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Miss Smarty-Pants – "

"Um, guys?" Hodgins stopped after poking his head into the room when two glares turned his way.

"What?"

Stepping tentatively into the doorway, he nodded toward Brennan's TV. "I was just wondering if you'd seen the news. I figured Booth would want to know."

"Know what?" Booth asked as Brennan reached for the remote. He turned his attention to the screen as the reporter's voice cut through the room.

" – new report that the FBI has now brought in additional agents to assist in the search. Again, if you have any information that may lead authorities to the location of the kidnapper, you are asked to call 800…"

The voice faded as Brennan turned down the volume. "Give us the short version, Hodgins."

Now confident that he wouldn't be shot for entering the room, Jack stepped forward. "Apparently there's been a kidnapping in the same town that Whitman is from. As usual, there aren't many details being released to the media, but some people they interviewed described the – "

"Oh, thank God you're still here!" Angela nearly knocked Jack over as she brushed past him in her mad dash to get to Booth. Holding out her cell phone, she waved it in Booth's dirction. "Here! You need to talk to him."

Booth instinctively raised his hand to accept the phone even as he asked, "Talk to who?" Taking the phone from Angela's white-knuckled grip, he ignored Brennan's whispered, "Whom."

"This is Special Agent Seeley Booth with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. To _whom_ am I speaking?"

In a hushed voice, Brennan stepped in front of Angela, taking in her anxious expression. "Angela? What's going on? Who's on the phone?"

"It's Jean-Luc." Angela turned to her friend, her face pale. "Bren, the kid that's missing? Jean-Luc saw his picture on the news. He swears it's the same kid Whitman was fighting with at the airport."

Brennan's eyes widened as understanding set in. _He's never done anything to a child. The victims have always been adults. With each act, he's escalated..._ She turned to watch her as her partner took his notepad out of his pocket. His eyes met hers, and she could see he'd had the same thought. With that one look, she knew just how grim he thought the situation might be.

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So, did you miss me? Maybe just a little? If the answer is yes, please review. Of course, if the answer is no, please review anyway. I would really appreciate it.


	20. Frustration and Details

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

Author's Note: omg. I FINALLY had the chance, and the inspiration required, to sit down and write a new chapter to this poor story. Although, I had actually written most of a new chapter a while ago…and then my computer crashed. As in, nothing-left-to-do-but-to-reformat-the-hard-drive type of crashed. And then, when I went to try to rewrite, nothing came to me. Nothing. It was a horrid case of writer's block. Nasty stuff, that. But, for better or worse, here's a new chapter. I sincerely hope that I've been able to keep to the tone of the story despite the long delay.

Author's Note 2: Again, for the parts of the story that are set in Kansas, I'm now completely making up the location/people/details. I've never been there, so if anything seems odd… Well…Try to suspend your disbelief, okay? :-)

Reminder: There is a one-hour time difference between Washington, D.C. and Kansas City, Missouri/Ottawa, KS.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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PIERCING THE STILLNESSChapter 20

I-70 – somewhere in KS

Friday, September 8th – 8:04pm

The landscape flew by in a quickly darkening blur of browns as the tires rolled along the smooth but dusty blacktop. In contrast, the occasional farmhouse crawled slowly across the distant horizon, offering no hope to the youngster tied up in the back seat. He had learned quickly that his only defense was to appear unconscious. So, he slumped low with his head lolling away from the rearview mirror while his not-quite-closed eyes watched their steady progress away from home via the window's reflection of the outside world. It took all of his young and untested restraint to not cringe when the wild-eyed man in the driver's seat started to sing along with the music again; the throat ripping vocals were frightening enough without listening to the stranger sing along to the hate filled lyrics. Holding in a sob, Junior sent up a silent plea and forced himself not to cry.

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Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Friday, September 8th – 9:42pm

Special Agent Booth's voice grew stronger and then faded away as his pacing took him back to the other side of the room. Casting a look his way, Dr. Temperance Brennan tried to pay attention to what he was saying while simultaneously trying to detach herself from the situation. She just couldn't think about the fact that a brilliantly sadistic madman now had his hands on an innocent child. As much as she didn't want to, she knew that she needed to help her partner find the pattern to the killer's madness. She couldn't do anything to help the child, who was hours away by car. But, she could and would do everything in her power to assist the local agents that would be there to find him. With a determined straightening of her shoulders, she turned to face Angela and Hodgins.

"Okay. We need to obtain every piece of information that we can on Whitman. He's obviously driving to somewhere. I want to know where that somewhere is located." She directed her gaze solely on Hodgins. "You have the most information on the suspect. Get Zack and start sifting through the data. Angela – "

"But isn't that what the FBI's supposed to be doing?" Zack's voice cut in from the doorway.

Hodgins' snorted and stood to exit. "Yeah. Like we should really trust them to figure it all out. Come on." As he walked by, he grabbed the young assistant by the shoulder and steered him toward the lab's main computer console.

Brennan watched them for a moment before turning her attention to Angela, only to find her teary-eyed friend's attention riveted on her partner.

"Angela. You need to keep working on the scenario from the last murder. I want you to find out exactly what steps Whitman took, and in what order he took them, while killing and dismembering the last victim." The artist's attention didn't waver. "Ange!"

Snapping her head around, Angela wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bren. But, I just can't help but to imagine what that kid must be feeling. I mean, how am I supposed to just go back to my office and tweak data when there's a terrified little boy out there somewhere?"

Without thinking, Brennan pulled her best friend into a tight hug. "I don't know, but you need to Angela. With every killing, the suspect's methods have escalated. We need to know exactly what happened the last time in order to get an idea of what he might consider to be the next worst action he can take now." She pulled back to arm's length. "Can you do that?"

Angela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, she nodded. "Yes." With that she turned from Brennan's grasp and walked determinedly from the room.

The snap of a cell phone closing pulled her attention from the doorway and back to the room's only other occupant. Her partner's eyes, blazing with anger, met her own. He started a rundown of his conversation with Jean-Luc without preamble. "Angela's friend is swearing on his life that the kid on the news was the same kid from the airport. While you were talking to the Squints I made a quick call to the Kansas City office. I've let them know of the connection, but they're still working to locate the mother of the child, so they can't confirm the information. Apparently, the kid had skipped school and was hanging out at a convenience store across from the community college where Whitman teaches. I don't know what happened to set Whitman off, but there are multiple witnesses that are, for once, all telling the same story. The boy was outside the convenience store with some friends when a man ran across the street through afternoon traffic, grabbed the kid and carjacked an SUV. He had the kid by the throat and was pressing in on his windpipe, so the poor woman that was in the car did what she was told and got out. The engine had already been running. Unfortunately, it was an older model vehicle, so there's no tracking system to trace its current whereabouts. Witnesses lost sight of the vehicle when it turned the nearest corner, and the city's traffic cameras lost track of it when it reached the city limits. At last report, the vehicle was headed West on I-70. What we don't know is where on earth he's going from there." Booth squeezed the pink cell phone liked he wanted to throw it across the room. "Damn it, I wish I was there instead of stuck here! I should be out there searching for this kid, not standing here trying to coordinate witness testimony!"

"But, Booth, what we're doing is just as important." She reached out to rescue Angela's phone, keeping her hand on Booth's for a few seconds until she felt the muscles begin to relax. "Hodgins and Zack are reviewing every piece of information that we have on Whitman in order to determine possible areas that he may be going. Angela went back to her office to continue work on the simulation of the last attack. When we have all of the pieces, I'm confident that we'll have an idea of where he's taking the latest victim and a possible scenario of what he might attempt to do to him once he gets there."

Flopping to the couch and slamming his fist into the cushion beside him, Booth said, "That's great, Bones. But, what does that leave me doing besides waiting by the phone?"

Brennan sat beside him and offered the most encouraging look she could manage under the circumstances. "That leaves you to work with me and the rest of the team to determine what's going on in the mind of the suspect. It's what you do best, Booth; and I think we'll both agree that with your gut and my science, we almost always come up with the right answer in the shortest amount of time. That's more than any other agent can do right now. We're that child's best chance for survival."

Booth leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. His features lost the tense lines of anger and he suddenly stood, offering her a hand up before striding toward the door. "Right. Then let's go do our thing."

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Okay, people. This is where you chime in to tell me what you think, okay? I know it's been awhile, so I'd really appreciate your feedback. Maybe it will help to keep the muses happy enough to feed me ideas on what to write next!


	21. Finding Patterns

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

Author's Note: _THANK YOU_ to everyone that is sticking in there through the delays to read this story. You're all awesome! And, while I'm not thrilled with this chapter, I would love to hear what you think. If you want. Hugs!

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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**PIERCING THE STILLNESS**

Chapter 21

Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Friday, September 8th – 10:57pm

"There has to be something we're missing, Zack."

Zack Addy didn't bother to turn around. Facing his friend wasn't necessary as he answered, "Obviously. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here." He looked up at the screen and frowned. Those results didn't help either. He sat, hands still on the keyboard, trying to think of how else to twist the data because, so far, they'd had no luck finding any useful information. Behind him, Dr. Jack Hodgins started through his personal list of favorite things to look for. Again.

"Cell phone records."

Zack sighed. "The FBI's trying to obtain them. I'm told we'll have them shortly."

"That's what you said an hour ago."

"And the answer hasn't changed."

"Can't you just, you know, hack in?"

"Only if you don't want to be able to use it as evidence in court."

Jack snapped the rubber band on his wrist. "And there's nothing in the criminal checks?" Zack opened his mouth, but Jack answered his own question. "Never mind. He wouldn't have his job if there were any other issues there." He pulled the band back to snap it again, but it broke. "Ow! Man that hurts!" He rubbed his wrist and threw the band into the trash. "I hate it when that happens."

Zack turned to look at him, puzzled. "Why did that hurt any more than the deliberate act of snapping it?"

Looking at the young scientist like he was slow, Jack grimaced. "Because, I wasn't expecting it that time." He held his hand up to get a better look at his wrist, wincing when he saw the welt that had appeared.

"Oh." But, Zack's frown remained in place. He didn't get it. "Then how does it help under ordinary circumstances?"

Blue eyes rolled up, looking for patience. Then, with a deep breath, Jack said, "Never mind. My rubber band issues aren't important." Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and went back to the list. "So, nothing in the criminal history. Nothing in the school records." His eyes flew open, and he snapped his fingers. "Past girlfriends. They always have the skinny on their old flames. Are they interviewing them?"

"I think it's safe to assume that the FBI is interviewing all known associates of the suspect." Jack paused. "Skinny?"

Hodgins' chin dropped to his chest, and he took another deep breath. "Skinny. Dirt." Enlightenment did not appear on Zack's face, and Jack shook his head sadly. "Information, Zack. Man, didn't you have to study vocabulary in school?"

Zack gave a silent "Ah!" and turned back to his computer, choosing to ignore the insinuation that his education had somehow been faulty.

"Hey! Did you try tracing the suspect's familial landholdings?"

Zack glared over his shoulder. "Yes. I tried that first. Four plots of land and a few homes."

Hodgins perked up.

But, Zack continued, "All to the East."

Hodgins' shoulders drooped. Stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets he rocked back on his heels. "Damn." Rocking forward he bounced lightly on his toes, "And we already know that the only property Whitman owns is the house he inherited from his parents." He rocked back. "You're sure that he doesn't own any other property?"

Zack shook his head no.

"Nothing? Something commercial? Not even a tiny cabin in the middle of the grasslands somewhere?"

"No. Not every family is like yours and has real estate holdings that span the nation." Zack spun his chair around to face the scientist. "The man owns his house and his car. That's it."

With a muffled growl of disgust, Hodgins ran his bright blue eyes over the information displayed on the screen in front of him. _There has to be a pattern._

"So if not him, who? Maybe we're looking at the wrong records. I mean he has to be driving toward some set location, right? This guy is methodical. He wouldn't just take off without any sort of back-up plan."

"If he doesn't have it planned, we're never going to find him from here." With that dispiriting statement, Zack turned back and started tapping in a new set of criteria for their search. "I'll try searching all of the documents for repeated words. Maybe we can come up with a common point of interest. I just hope that it doesn't take too long. This process, unfortunately, is cumbersome due to the need to filter out the basics, such as 'the' and 'and'. Of course, given the number of applications included in the data set, there will be a multitude of additional words that have been repeated over and over. But, maybe I can tweak the program…" He continued to type feverishly as his voice trailed off, leaving Hodgins to stand behind him, watching in silence.

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Holographics Office – Medico-Legal Lab

Friday, September 8th – 10:57pm

Angela Montenegro ran the simulation again, narrowing her dark eyes as the brutal scene played out before her. The initial attack from behind. The victim's surprise hit that almost helped her to get out of reach. The moment of truth – the poor girl had apparently gotten trapped in a proverbial corner and had bravely turned to face her assailant. That first deep cut on her right hand that Angela had been able to reconstruct just the day before. _God, it feels like a lifetime ago._ Then, the rest of the scene continued on. Stab after stab. Slash after slash. It was just too much for the poor girl to take. _She didn't stand a chance._ But, there was still something wrong with that final sequence. Angela couldn't figure it out, but the flow just wasn't…flowing. She hit the play button again, focusing her attention on the upper right quadrant of the display. Again, the simulation ran smoothly enough. It looked correct, but it just didn't feel right. Pulling open the autopsy results and photographs, she pulled out a sketchpad and started to piece together the wounds – drawing them by hand.

Almost an hour later she realized where she'd miscalculated on the simulation. Holding back her own fear of what she thought she was about to see, she re-keyed a few of the data points and hit play. The beginning was now so familiar that she knew she'd be dreaming of it for months to come. But, this time the ending was different. _Oh my God. He didn't kill her on purpose. _Cutting the scene short, Angela hit the stop button and stared at the hologram in horror. He'd miscalculated. It wasn't supposed to end so soon. _He'd been toying with her. And, now he has a little boy. _

"I have to show Brennan." She threw her sketches onto the sofa and ran out of the room.

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Somewhere – Driving west on I-70

Friday, September 8th – 8:57pm

Junior didn't know where they were; but he did know that it seemed difficult to breathe. The scary guy had opened a window a few miles back, so the noise of the wind rushing in was loud enough to cover his soft gasps. Not knowing why he couldn't get enough air, Junior risked moving ever so slightly into a more comfortable position, hoping that was the problem. Then, glancing at the rearview mirror through lowered lashes, he watched as the driver stretched his neck first left and then right all the while tapping his bony fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the music. The boy was just about to look away when his kidnapper's crazed eyes connected with his own in the reflection. Junior held still, wanting more than anything not to draw attention to himself. That was when the man started to laugh.


	22. No Quarter

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

Story Correction: I just realized I had mistakenly labeled I-70 as I-80. My apologies for the mistake. (I-80 runs through Nebraska, not Kansas.) 'blushes'

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is still reading! Also, I didn't get to go quite as far into this chapter as I wanted. However, I'm moving next weekend, so I wanted to get at least this part posted for now.

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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**PIERCING THE STILLNESS**

Chapter 22

Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Friday, September 8th – 11:21pm

Angela's hands trembled as she walked down the hallway and into the main lab. She couldn't make it stop. In her mind all she could see was a child, bleeding to death after a madman had toyed with him by cutting him over and over and over again. Thin blades to keep the wounds small. Shallow cuts designed to prolong the torture. Her breathing hitched as tried to calm herself; but, this time, breathing exercises weren't helping.

"Angela?" The uncertain tone of Hodgins' voice cut through her single-focused shell. "Are you okay?"

Blinking tear filled eyes, she looked up and gave a sharp shake of her head. Not bothering to move the pieces of hair that now stuck to her damp cheek, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest and walked more quickly toward her goal. Brennan had to know what might happen to that boy.

As Jack called her name once more, Angela kept walking and held up a hand to stall his steps toward her. "Just follow." Swallowing tightly she continued, "I don't want to have to explain it more than once."

Jack exchanged a concerned look with Zack before bounding down the stairs of the examination platform and half-jogging to join the rest of the team in Brennan's office.

Zack carefully saved his current work and programmed in a new keyword search before securing the computer and following in Jack's wake. When he arrived in the office, he found everyone in his or her usual places. Dr. Brennan was behind her desk with Booth pacing the floor in front of it. Hodgins and Angela were on the couch. As he entered, the room's occupants turned to him, and he sidled over to an empty chair. He was grateful when the FBI agent's voice pulled their attention away.

"Okay, Angela. We're all here. What'd you find out?" The strain was starting to show in Booth's curt tone.

Brennan looked at him, but he ignored her rather obvious concern. And, as Angela started to speak, she turned her full attention to her friend. Any finding might be important to the accurate interpretation of the evidence, and that could help them predict what might happen to the missing victim.

"I was working on the simulation, just like Bren asked me to. And, as it was playing, I couldn't figure out why something toward the end seemed off. I mean, I feel like I've watched it a million times, but there was always something sort of jarring at one particular moment in the sequence." As the image she created with her holographics software ran through her mind, she paused. "Zack." She turned her dark, haunted eyes toward the young scientist. "Do you remember the problem we were having with that series of injuries on the left side of the body?" When Zack nodded, she continued. "I've figured out why." She turned her gaze to meet the eyes of each member of the room in turn. "The last victim was killed before she was meant to be."

Brennan's brows drew together in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

At the same time, Zack's soft gasp almost went unheard. "Oh my God." His eyes widened, and Angela could see that his swift thinking brain had realigned the evidence and filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle.

Nodding at Zack, she blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words. Standing, she said, "I think it's easier just to show you."

She led the way as the team paraded to her office. Two were obviously dreading what they knew they were about to see, their faces drawn and lips tight. The other three's expressions ranged from anxious to confused, but they would figure it out soon enough.

As Angela entered her office and picked up the pad that she used to operate the Angelator, she closed her eyes and softly took a deep breath. _Please. Let this help find him before it's too late. _After a moment, knowing she would never be able to prepare herself, she stabbed at the device in her hand with the stylus. The Angelator sprung to life, the now familiar opening scene sparkling brightly in the virtual tank. As the figures started to move, Angela narrated. "It all starts with the surprise attack. Whitman – "

"The suspect," Brennan interrupted. When the others turned to look at her she stared right back. "It's best not to assume until all of the facts are in and verified."

With a roll of her eyes, Angela restarted the sequence. "Fine. The suspect surprised the victim when he attacked her from behind. However, I don't think he was anticipating her power and will to fight back. As you can see she was able to get turned around so that he was in front of her. He tried to go for a frontal assault, but she was determined and grappled for the knife. That's when he sliced her hand open. And, I think that's where things started to go wrong in the suspect's eyes. That cut was deep enough to scar the bone. From what I can tell, that wasn't at all what he wanted."

Booth held up his hand and turned to face the artist. "Wait a sec. What do you mean? He attacked a woman with a knife, and his intent was to kill her. Cutting her would've been part of the plan."

Nodding, Angela agreed. "Yes. But, it's when you start to review the specific depths and locations of the cuts from the fight that an odd pattern starts to emerge." She paused the fight that had been raging silently in front of them. Pointing with the stylus, she continued, "If you look, you can see that the one and only cut, so far, that was more than a nick or surface scratch is the cut to the hand. Don't get me wrong. The victim, by this point, is bleeding and suffering. But the suspect appears to be deliberately pulling his punches. The knife's edge is, for lack of a better term, just barely winging the victim. They're deep scratches."

Jack's eyes went wide, and he echoed Zack's earlier exclamation of horrified disbelief. "Oh my God." He turned to Angela. "You think he was playing a game. Dragging it out just for…what? Just for fun?"

With a negative shake of her head, Angela said, "I don't know the reason. But, if you watch this all the way through, it becomes clear. He didn't just want to hurt this poor girl. He wanted to torture her."

Looking back and forth between the shimmering fight in front of him and the artist's tormented face, Booth realized what Angela was intimating. "And now, somewhere, this man has Junior Bryce."

Angela nodded, darkening the Angelator so that the group was left staring at one another across the empty space that, in their minds, was still filled with the image of a woman fighting a losing battle to save her own life.

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Somewhere – Driving west on I-70

Friday, September 8th – 9:42pm

"You do realize that the Old Man is gonna kill us for this, right?" Agent Cartwright reached for his phone as it started to vibrate. He checked the caller ID before flicking it off and saying, "Not to mention my wife. I'm putting you in charge of explaining this to her when we get back."

Agent Preston cast a sideways glance before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "Don't tell me you're afraid of sweet, little Di, Herbie. I mean, come on. You might be short, but she's still tinier than you." When Cartwright shoved his shoulder he snorted in laughter, his white teeth glowing dimly in the light from the dash. "Fine. Fine. I'll tell her all about it when we get back home. But first, I want to find out where this guy's going."

Rolling his eyes, Cartwright shifted in his seat so that he was almost able to face his partner. Suddenly serious, he said, "We don't even know if we're going the right way. The suspect could've turned off of the highway anywhere within the last 300 or so miles."

"He could have. But, he didn't."

Cartwright's blue eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "Another feeling?"

Preston just looked at him again before reaching down to snap on the radio. They continued to travel the surprisingly deserted Interstate as the second verse of "No Quarter" drifted from the car's speakers.

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"No Quarter" – performed by Led Zeppelin and written by John Paul Jones, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant

Reviews are always greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism.


	23. Rainy Morning Darkest Night

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

A/N: Again, thank you so much to everyone who is still reading!

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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**PIERCING THE STILLNESS**

Chapter 23

Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Saturday, September 9th – 6:27am EST

As the lab's doors slid open, Zack unconsciously hunched his shoulders against the blast of cold air that he knew would come from above the minute he passed through the doorway. Even expecting it, he shivered uncontrollably as the chill seeped through his soaked lab coat to blow across his goose-pimply skin. Moving quickly out of the air's path, he continued at a more sedate shuffle toward his station, puddles trailing in his wake. To make matters worse, with each step leftover rainwater dripped from the hair on the back of his neck and dribbled a path down his spine, stopping only when it seeped into the waistband of his jeans. With a sigh he reached around to rub the spot before the water could continue its trek downward since his underwear did not need any more water; the seepage through his jeans during the walk through the torrential downpour had done a rather thorough job of it already. _My umbrella just __had__ to be locked inside Hodgins' car. _Focused as he was on the events of the morning, it wasn't until he raised his hand to swipe his badge that he realized he was still holding a torn and dripping brown bag lunch. With a sigh he turned toward the kitchenette, snagging an unused evidence bag along the way. After all, if he put his lunch in the fridge without any bag at all he ran the risk of it being "accidentally" eaten by someone else as a mid-morning snack. Not that it was truly accidental, of course. He wasn't so naive as to believe that; but, as Zack had discovered, not all of his co-workers were opposed to undiscussed food swapping – especially where his homemade macaroni and cheese was involved.

"Vultures."

He pointedly ignored the squelching of his sneakers and continued walking until he reached the lab's small kitchen where he unconsciously sneered at the overwhelming yellow walls and glaring fluorescent lights. His bloodshot eyes, gritty from lack of sleep, squinted nearly closed against the assault as he made his way into the room. He was simply not feeling awake enough for anything this cheery. Dropping his stuff onto a table, he quickly transferred his food into the new bag, slid the seal closed and stashed it in the back of the fridge behind something that looked like an experiment gone all wrong. _At least no one will move that…whatever it is in order to look back there._

He then actually made it all the way back to the platform before realizing that he'd left his badge on the table in the kitchen and was forced to turn around and go back. _We should really upgrade to biometric security. _He'd already dropped the thing twice on his way in to work; the last time it had almost gone down the runoff grate outside, so he was seriously considering the merits of somehow sewing it to his lab coat. However, after a quick mental pros and cons list, he realized just how impractical that would be and discarded the idea. Keeping it on its clip would just have to do. But, maybe he could make a few suggestions to Dr. Goodman about upgrading the current system.

As he passed by the surface of a stainless steel cabinet, badge now in hand, he gazed forlornly at his sopping reflection and muttered, "This is all Hodgins' fault."

After grabbing only two or three hours of sleep each night for the past couple of weeks, Zack knew that he should have been exhausted. Unfortunately, his body and mind didn't agree. When Dr. Goodman had forced them all out of the lab late the evening before, he'd gone home to spend a restless evening of tossing and turning in bed. He'd tried any number of valid techniques – including his mom's recipe for warm milk – intended to promote relaxation in order to attain the state necessary to induce sleep; however, every time he had managed to doze off, images from the Angelator has stolen into his dreams and torn him to wakefulness. So, by four o'clock he'd already given up on sleep. Showered and dressed for work, he had checked his e-mail and a few favorite websites while waiting for a decent hour, specifically 5:00 am, before trying to rouse Hodgins. Calling had been his first option; but, when Zack couldn't get him to answer his phone after half a dozen tries, he'd trudged all the way up to the main house – only to be rebuffed by the never rumpled but always grumpy housekeeper who had informed him that the "master of the house" had not yet awakened. That was, of course, before the door had been closed with a solid thunk and locked with a click.

_Apparently Hodgins is sleeping just fine_, Zack had thought with a growl. He'd then gone with his second and least favorite option for getting to work. Grabbing his cell out of his pocket, he'd called for a cab. As usual, he'd waited in front of the tall gates that guarded the entrance to the estate, which was about the time that a light drizzle had started. By the time the cab had arrived, 20 minutes late, the drizzle had worked its way up to a soft, steady rain. But it wasn't until the cab was cutting a path through the city that the skies had opened up to drop a torrent of water onto the weekend morning traffic. Unfortunately for Zack, that had added a terrifying amount of drive time as the cab swerved and hydroplaned its way through the rain slicked streets and gathering puddles, some of which grew too quickly to drain away and began to cover entire lanes of roadway. Add that to the city's infamous traffic circles and tourist drivers, and Zack had been forced to close his eyes so that he could keep from focusing on the too close presence of every other car on the road. He'd actually screamed when the cab fishtailed to an abrupt standstill due to an accident up ahead. When he'd finally opened his eyes, he'd realized that he was within two blocks of the Jeffersonian. But, the rain hadn't even begun to let up. Not really wanting to get even more wet, he'd tried to wait it out; but, after 30 minutes, the rain hadn't slowed. Anxious to get to work, Zack had paid the cabby and jumped out – into an ankle-deep puddle – so that he could run-walk the rest of the way to the museum.

"Ohwhoa!" Zack's attention snapped to the present as he grabbed for anything nearby in an attempt to keep himself from falling when his foot hit one of his earlier water spots and swooshed out from underneath him. He missed the railing by mere inches and hit the ground with an oomph, his badge hitting his forehead a split-second later. Once he'd ascertained that he was mostly uninjured, he spent a few moments just staring up at the rain pounding down onto the glass ceiling above.

"Now I know what people mean when they use the phrase: Today is just not my day."

Slowly getting to his feet, Zack took care to hold the railing along the platform before moving in the direction of Angela's office. He'd smacked his head; and while it only seemed to have a small bump, he had the sudden urge to lie down for a while. It sounded safe; safe was good. Limping away, he muttered to himself about maybe getting some sleep. He kept one hand on the wall to steady his balance and kept the other wrapped securely around his badge, mentally noting that he really needed to present the concept of advanced biometric security options to Dr. Goodman as soon as possible. Once safely ensconced in the Holographics office, he carefully closed the door and shut off the lights before going to the sofa and sinking gracelessly onto the cushions. For good measure, he covered his head with a throw pillow. Just in case a piece of the ceiling decided to fall.

A few minutes later, a shrill beeping started in the lab and didn't stop until an irritated security guard stomped his way up the steps of the platform and smacked his hand against the computer. Once the beeping quieted, he stalked away, nearly slipping on a puddle at the base of the stairs. Grumbling about idiot geniuses with no common sense, he radioed to maintenance and asked that someone come to the lab with a mop. He didn't even bother to look up at the main computer screen, which was blinking the words "Correlation Found".

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A service road off of Teller County Route 1 - CO

Saturday, September 9th – 4:27am MST

What had felt like days of travel could be measured in hours; and, it had taken until the deep of the night for Junior to finally submit to the shock and exhaustion brought on by the day's events and the oh so long drive. Sometime well after midnight, the sound of the tires running along smooth pavement had lulled him into a strangely calm sleep. He'd dreamt of the road, owl-like birds and rustling leaves. The dreams weren't unpleasant, merely unusual; so he awoke slowly, wondering fuzzily why his arms were numb. It wasn't until he tried to rub his eyes that the rough brush of rope against his wrists jerked him awake and back to reality. _Wha'the?_ Craning his neck, he struggled to see his hands; but as his shoulder pulled forward, the course rope tugged and scraped across his tender skin, digging tighter. He flopped back to his stomach – a cry smothered by the seat – and flexed his fingers, trying to get the feeling back. His heart pounding in his chest, he tried not to squirm when the pins and needles started; and as the fire in his arms began to subside, he took in his surroundings. All was pitch black and still. _We stopped!_ He couldn't see anything. _Where am I?_ _Oh, God, why's it so dark? _More than anything, he hated the dark. His mom made sure to keep nightlights on in all of the rooms of their small home. Otherwise, he had frightening dreams of evil creatures that came for him in the night. Now, stolen from his home and bound in the back of a car, he was living out his worst nightmare.

His breathing came too quick and too shallow as Junior ignored the burning in his wrists and forced himself onto his side, possessed with the need to see where he was. As he struggled to sit, it took a moment before he realized that the car was empty. Surprised, he jerked and his elbow slid out from under his weight, dropping him back onto the seat again. _The man. Where'd he go? Did he just leave me here alone? _That was even worse than just being in the dark. Junior wanted to scream but couldn't manage more than a weak moan. In the silence, his breathing rasped like broken thunder, and he was getting light-headed. Knowing that he needed to calm down, he started to take deep breaths just like his gym teacher had taught him to do after a long run. Then, he set about trying to figure out where he might be.

Junior knew what the other kids at school said about him. He'd heard the names more times than he could count; but he was nowhere near as dumb as they made him out to be. Just like his mom always told him, he had street smarts. And she always said that being street smart was better than being book smart any day of the week because people who were good at school tended to be "so smart they were stupid" in everyday life. So, keeping his mom's voice in mind, he tried to see if he could hear anything from outside. He hoped for something that would help him figure out what was going on around the SUV. Maybe he could get out and find help._ Maybe we stopped at a store. If the old man's gone long enough I can… I don't know what, but I can do something. _As he took deep breaths, he thought again of his mom. _I just want to go back home. I promise to be good if I can just get home. I promise!_

Then an owl's hoot sounded off in the distance. Eyes darting to look up, Junior tried but could barely make out the view through the closed windows of the SUV. Black treetops against a midnight sky. And stars. He'd never seen so many stars before in his life. Slowly – so slowly – Junior started to slide around closer to the window. As the rope pulled, he stopped. But, after awhile, he realized that it didn't pull too tight if he held his arms up and in, close to his back. It hurt his shoulders, but it did allow him to sit. In fear of being seen by the Scary Man, he edged his eyes up and past the bottom level of the window. At first, he popped his head up a little too far, and his ragged breathing fogged the glass which forced him to duck just a bit and wait for it to fade away. In the end, clear glass didn't really help much. It was dark. So very dark. He didn't know where he was, but he could make out what seemed to be a clearing surrounded by trees and deep shadows at the base of what looked like steep, rocky walls. That alone was enough to tell him that he was a very long way from home. _Where am I? _

That thought was torn away as a doorway of light suddenly spilled into the night, and then Junior really did scream. He kicked and howled, trying to get out. He forgot the ropes and frantically tore back across the seat, trying to get as far away as possible. When he couldn't open the door, he slid to the floor, whimpering a prayer for help. But, no help was to be found as the Scary Man opened the opposing door and crawled across the seat after him, knife in hand.

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Sorry for the delay, but I had some problems getting into the mood to write a regular Bones story again. And, I hope no one minds that I felt the need to spend some time with Zack in this chapter. He's going to be missed. :-(


	24. Smiles and Knives

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own anything related to the concept or characters from BONES. This story is not intended for any use other than my own amusement…and hopefully the entertainment of my fellow fans. However, with that said, all other characters are my own creation. I hope you like them…or love to hate them. :)

A/N: I know. I know. I should never post a story as a WIP ever, ever again. So it is with whole-hearted sincerity that I say thank you so much to everyone who is reading!

Note: Thoughts are in _italics_.

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**PIERCING THE STILLNESS**

Chapter 24

Hotel Room – Colorado Springs, CO

Saturday, September 9th – 7:14am MST

"Yes." …

"Yes, honey." …

"I know, honey. I kn – " Herbie Cartwright, Special Agent with the FBI, smothered a sigh as his wife continued to berate him from hundreds of miles away. He had apologized, but her ire steamrolled right over him through the phone line. "I'm really sor – " He stopped as she verbally smacked him for trying to apologize when she knew that he really wasn't sorry for the choice that he had made. He nodded, silently agreeing with what she was saying. After all, how could he argue? His wife, who knew him so well, was absolutely right. He had made the choice voluntarily, and he'd do it again without question. Of course, now wasn't really the time to say that; so, like any good husband, he kept quiet and listened as his diminutive wife continued her tirade.

All the while, his friend and partner sat at the small table in the corner of their hotel room, listening to the groveling side of the conversation with an amused smirk. Cartwright had been trying to ignore him, but it was the snort of laughter that caused the harangued agent's normally cheerful blue eyes to blaze briefly before narrowing to a glare. Turning, the agent carefully covered the mouthpiece on the phone and pointed accusingly with his other hand toward his partner. "This is your fault," he hissed before going back to mumble another "You're right" into the cell.

Agent Ryan Preston, hard pressed not to laugh, placed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide a gleaming grin. Even if it was his fault, that didn't make the scene any less amusing.

Seeing the smile, Cartwright practically growled before his attention snapped back to the woman on the phone. "Of course I'm paying attention, sweetheart." Starting to pace, he approached the windowed side of the room, turning a menacing glance at the man in the corner. His mouthed "You just wait" only made Preston laugh harder. Until a pillow from the bed hit him on the side of the head. Then it was Cartwright's turn to smile.

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Medico-Legal Lab – The Jeffersonian

Saturday, September 9th – 9:26am EST

Jack walked into the lab, expecting to be the last one there even though it was a Saturday morning. He'd set his alarm for o'dawn early, but apparently he'd mistakenly hit PM instead of AM and was, therefore, running later than planned. However, as he hurried in to the lab proper he found the place nearly empty. The only other people in sight were the security guards who were always on duty and a janitor pushing around a steaming bucket with a mop. Every few feet the squeaky wheels would stop, and she'd clean up what appeared to be drying puddles of mud.

Scanning the office windows for signs of life, he made his way to his desk and muttered, "Where the hell is everyone?" He'd at least expected to find Zack up on the platform. Especially since he'd called the garage apartment twice and then waited an extra 15 minutes for the young scientist to show up at the house, only to be told that he'd apparently left hours before via cab.

"Maybe they're in Ange's office."

Stepping around the newly mopped section of flooring he started toward the hall. Just before he turned the corner something caught his attention. The main screen on the platform was flashing. "What the –"

He badged in quickly and took the stairs in two bounds to get to the platform, Taking a seat at the keyboard, he typed in a few commands and pulled up the results of the search that had been running.

"Woah."

Wrestling his phone from his jeans pocket, he hit speed dial 3. "Brennan, I think I know where to find the missing kid." … "Zack left a search running last night, and it had completed by the time I got here. According to this, Whitman's good buddy Roger Potts is from the Rockies. His family owns miles upon miles of land up in the mountains north of Colorado Springs, and on that land somewhere is a small hunting cabin." … "Yeah. But, I don't have an exact location on the cabin. Just a mention of it on some old county records." … "Okay. I'll see if I can find Zack; between the two of us we should be able to find something more concrete. When should we expect you?" ... "So, we'll meet in you about thirty? Sounds like a plan, man." He ended the call and vaulted off the stairs to go find his brilliant, young friend.

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A cabin off of Teller County Route 1 - CO

Saturday, September 9th – 7:49am MST

The child's screams of terror had died to wordless sobs and then incoherent whimpers before finally falling silent. It had taken a bit longer than he'd expected for the brat to shut the hell up. Once he did, Whitman shook the tension from his shoulders and smiled in relief. Dealing with his victims' hysterics was his least favorite part of this little experiment. As he relished the natural silence in the small room, he walked around the table to study his handy work. Not his prettiest, but that was okay. He was saving the best for last. However, given the mental state of the kid, he suspected that it was going to take him awhile to wake up again. The killer shrugged. _Abject terror takes its toll on everyone in the end. _Besides, it's not like he didn't have a few things left to do before he was ready to start the real work he wanted to accomplish before this was all over.

He hadn't even really done anything to the spoiled snot. Not yet, anyway. So far, all he'd managed before the kid passed out was to get the table set up with restraints – he let the kid watch as he bolted the shackles in place - and get the kid tied up nice and tight. His still diminutive arms and legs were spread wide toward each corner and tied off with the same rough rope he'd used before. Whitman's upper lip lifted in a sneer. That shit rubbed the shine off of his gloves, but it was worth it to see the glaringly red scrapes on the kid's skin as the ropes pulled with his every move, even in sleep.

As the kid mumbled and started to thrash his head back and forth, gripped in the throes of another nightmare, Whitman puttered around the small room placing layer after layer of overlapping tarps on the floor and over the scant furniture. Once satisfied that no fluids would make it to the floor, he turned toward the rough hewn cabinet that ran along the back wall of the old cabin. Opening one of doors, a fond smile graced his features while he gazed at the collection of knives and other tools hanging from their specially made hooks. Picking up an old-fashioned leather strap, he took each knife out in turn, taking his time in polishing their sharpened points until they gleamed in the wavering light cast from the oil lamp hanging overhead.


End file.
